


Remnants, Volume II

by Yin



Series: Remnants: A Fantasy AU Duology [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yin/pseuds/Yin
Summary: Elves.  Orcs.  Beast Folk.  Seas.  Dwarves.  Humans.  Monsters.A missing prince.  Kingdoms in conflict both from within and without.Magic Users.  Linking Magic.  Relics and Remnants.The members of the Guild have been through quite a lot already.  Though their members might be separated currently, it seems as if they're about to be thrown into an even greater conflict than they at first realized.  Can an ancient magic help to bring their scattered remnants back together before war tears them all apart?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The city of Armonia, located in the Outer Region county of Chrous, was alive with activity. Not that that was particularly surprising. There really had _never_ been a time since moving here that Lavernius Tucker hadn’t seen it in such a state.

Armonia was the capital of Chorus itself, which was one of the largest Outer Region kingdoms save for the Orcish Territories that it shared borders with. It was also the home of not only the Guild, an organization which helped register all Magic Users within the Outer Regions and which also had a pretty big presence throughout all of the countries that recognized it, but also the embassy for the Unsc Empire.

_“Embassy”_ had been its title in name only, as most considered the highly militarized presence more of an outright fort to best keep the Unsc’s vested interests in the Outer Regions protected. Still, that had unexpectedly changed with the current General Ambassador’s, Donald Doyle’s, willingness to improve diplomatic relations whenever and wherever possible instead of oh-so-subtly reminding everyone just who had the largest weapons.

Now most of the military’s cautious eyes tended to roam outwards to the Orcish Territories they were still not allowed to traverse in, despite the continued negotiations between the two rather impressively sized kingdoms sandwiching in a myriad collective of smaller ones.

Tucker supposed that there was reason for that still. While a tentative peace of sorts had eventually been reached between the rest of the Outer Regions and both of its more shut-off neighbors, the same hadn’t been true of either other realm. About the only things that had kept them from outright trying to blow the other off the face of the map was The Boundary that the Unsc had set up around its borders since you had to go through all sorts of songs and dances to breach The Boundary.

There was also the fact that the Outer Regions stood directly in-between the two kingdoms, making full-force militarized maneuvers more of a political headache to attempt unless shit really got out of control. Not to mention the lingering reminders of what had happened when the Elven Genocide occurred in the multitude of forms that the murderous Plague Beasts took who roamed the land, combined with those who had magic flowing through their blood and the Relics and Remnants that were still sought after for their magical, energy-giving properties to this very day.

To say that things had always been a bit tenuous was something of a fucking understatement, and that was before any of them had really put together all of the power struggles and shadow government conspiracy bullshit that was apparently going on behind the scenes within the high and utterly-fool-of-themselves Unsc. Seriously, it was just so much fucking bullshit. Plus, there was always some kind of trouble brewing in the Outer Regions that they would then have to fucking deal with.

Tucker couldn’t even be bothered at this point to really give a fuck regarding the currently odd silence in the Orcish Territories like how some of his other friends were on account of everything that had happened in the wake of a Unsc shadow group attempting to kidnap Magic Users here in Chorus.

Truth be told, he kind of didn’t want to really be thinking of that at all at the moment either, his mind’s helpful penchant for recapping notwithstanding. Fucking figured.

Tucker sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched a shower of brightly colored sparks dance in the air over his young son’s head. He couldn’t even enjoy some well-deserved time off with Junior as a result of all that shit.

Tucker watched on as Theta, an apprentice Guild member only a few years older than Junior was as well as a relative of three of Tucker’s friends in an overly complicated magic kind-of-way that always caused a shitload of headaches to try and explain to anyone, conversed with his son.

“Hmm, but what if that distraction didn’t work?” The dark-haired, purple-eyed Theta asked his playmate in a considering fashion.

Junior frowned at the idea, gripping his wooden training sword tightly. Like fuck was Tucker letting him near the real sharp and pointy ones _yet_. The two boys were playing at a make believe mental training session on the outskirts of the city right by the large gates so as to not get in the way of townsfolk going about their business while Tucker and Theta’s self-appointed guardian or partner or whatever North Dakota sat on some nearby crates to observe and catch a bit of a breather themselves.

“Plague Beasts don’t like distractions?” Junior asked at length.

Theta tapped his chin thoughtfully, “They’ll work on them just fine, but timing is important too. If they figure out that you were trying to get them away from a Relic to steal it, you’re going to have a fight on your hands.”

Junior puffed out his chest proudly, “Then I’ll just have to fight them!” He declared.

Tucker grinned and clapped his hands, “Fuck yeah, that’s how we do it!”

The pale blond-haired man called North sitting next to Tucker simply raised his eyebrows in a bemused fashion, mouth quirking upwards as the other young boy was quick to counter Junior’s suggestion.

“Okay, but what if the cave is too small for fighting? If the monster is tough or you’re outnumbered?” The usually meek child’s voice grew louder as Theta really started getting into the scenario he had concocted, “The Relic has to get taken to the village no matter what!”

Junior’s eyes widened at the newfound urgency of his pretend predicament, spinning his head to and fro as he looked around the area. Suddenly, his small feline tail, so much like his father’s save in length, was swishing eagerly behind him, “Th—that’s easy!” He declared, using fake bolster to cover up whatever doubt he might have been feeling, “I just have to find somewhere to hide where they can’t reach!”

Junior’s somewhat rounder than Tucker’s own furry ears twitched atop his head as the child found a small space between two nearby buildings that was just wide enough for tinier beings to enter, “Like there!” He cried out in a more confident tone, grabbing Theta’s hand to pull the other boy over to the space in question.

Theta nodded his head approvingly, “Not bad.” He admitted before his eyes lit up mischievously, “But what if they could still follow you?”

“No fair!” Junior’s pout would have been apparent in his voice even if he had been facing away, “You can’t change their sizes!”

“But I never said they were _all_ huge.” Theta pointed out smugly, “Plague Beasts do vary and caves can have lots of secret routes…”

As Theta’s voice trailed off the further into their hiding spot the boys went, Junior’s adamant protests only apparent in his indignant expression following, Tucker couldn’t suppress the cold shiver that Theta’s words had unintentionally caused. A frown momentarily crossed over his face as his hands pressed down on the sides of his stomach.

It had just been an innocent coincidence, to be sure, but what Theta had said brought back to mind the rather unsettling circumstances behind Junior’s birth far too much.

Don’t get Tucker wrong: having Junior was by far one of the single greatest things to have ever happened to him. He loved his kid to death, and being responsible for another living being had ultimately helped him get his fucking life together. But just _how_ it had happened? That still gave him pause.

_As far as anyone else knew, Tucker had knocked up the daughter of a traveling merchant passing through his middle of nowhere village. She had stayed long enough to have the baby, but her human family were the asshole sort who weren’t too keen on having half-Beast Folk kin with a Magic User no less, so they dumped the baby on his father’s doorstep and left. Soon after, Tucker managed to arrange for travel to Armonia for himself and Junior, where he started doing jobs for the Guild. He had kept to only the area around Armonia until Junior was older._

_But that was total bullshit._

_Grif and Kai knew that because their towns weren’t too far apart from one another. They had both known Tucker back when he had been an awesome albeit completely magic-less feline Beast Folk. So, his suddenly being able to form a blade of sheer energy right after having a kid was enough for them to know something was up even if they never pried._

_The only people to know the full truth were Church, Tex, and Kimball. Church on account of one time the two friends got drunk off their asses to the point where Tucker really liked talking about himself, and then the inebriated asshole in cobalt immediately decided he had to pay his girlfriend that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut around a fucking visit which explained Tex knowing too, though both agreed to keep his secret since they were so well-versed in their own._

_As for Vanessa Kimball, the brown and ice-skinned Seas who was the current leader of the Guild? Well, in order to avoid his family getting into a whole fuckton of trouble, he kind of had to tell her in order to explain how he hadn’t been registered earlier with the Guild as a Magic User. But, she knew how to keep such manners discreet, both for his sake as well as Junior’s._

_So, long story short, Tucker had been even cockier in the past and, yeah, there had been a really hot chick in a traveling merchant caravan that he had maybe wanted to impress. So when he had heard about a recently unearthed cave nearby that was bound to have a Relic or two, he figured he could sneak in and out without much problem. After all, none of the roaming Plague Beasts in the area had ever come close to catching him._

_Tucker had underestimated the difference between roaming monsters and their counterparts who were often strengthened by mystical energies hardly anyone really understood when safely in their home territories, and that had nearly gotten him torn limb from limb by a type of Plague Beast he had never seen before: one that was almost humanoid, but with a towering upright body that also resembled some kind of distorted lizard or dragon._

_Thank fuck there had been only one, but it had injured him good before he had somehow managed to hit its weak spot with a rock and make his way into a side-tunnel. He had thought he was safe then, since there was no way for it to follow. It was a good thing too, because he was bleeding badly and he was fairly certain the Plague Beast used poison or venom because he was getting pretty out of it. If he could just wait he could hopefully sneak out…_

_Only that didn’t happen either because when he passed out in a feverish state a minute or two later, he had woken up to the thing right in front of his fucking face._

_Tucker did not, thankfully, remember much of anything after it had grabbed him by the shoulders a second time. He had been quite certain he was going to die though, so he was pretty fucking floored when he woke up fully who knew when later on with his big, nasty injury all healed and the Plague Beast nowhere to be found._

_He was still sick as all get-out, but the dark-skinned man had somehow managed to drag himself back to his home, the way oddly devoid of its usual potential terrors._

_Tucker had given birth unexpectedly to Junior the day his fever broke a short time later. The birth had been excruciating and difficult given how his body wasn’t exactly equipped for that sort of thing, but the local healer had finally figured out what was going on and performed a c-section._

_Tucker also found himself suddenly able to call forth a magical blade at will, and he had an infant who was very likely half of something he wasn’t quite sure what. He didn’t care though. Tucker loved Junior all the same the second he was able to hold his tiny albeit still grossly sticky form in his arms._

_His mother and the healer had come up with the merchant’s daughter rumor to protect both father and son, but Tucker knew his time at his hometown was over if he wanted to keep Junior safe, so he left for Armonia as soon as he was capable of travel._

Weirdly enough, that cave seemed to have vanished just as quickly as it had been discovered according to later reports. No one in the Outer Regions had ever seen a Plague Monster like the one that had stalked _(taken care of? Impregnated?)_ Tucker since.

If he hadn’t heard from Carolina and the other Freelancers now hanging around the Guild that they had actually fought some of the same Plague Beasts in the past, he would have possibly doubted his own story and recollection.

Not that it fucking mattered.

He had power to actually do shit now and even help people, and he had a healthy, bright-eyed and bushy tailed son who he would always be proud of and dote on. All in all, Tucker didn’t regret what had happened.

Still, when he caught North looking at him inquisitively out of the corner of his eye due to his reaction to Theta’s comment, Tucker couldn’t help but feel rather nervous.

North was a decent all-around guy, and given how Theta came to be he doubted he would be a judgmental prick, but Tucker didn’t want to take any chances when it came to Junior’s wellbeing. So, that meant letting as little people as possible know of his true origins.

“Something wrong, Tucker?” North asked him, ice blue eyes looking concerned.

Tucker steeled himself and smiled, focusing on another truth instead, “It’s nothing, dude.” He assured him, eyes landing on the two kids again, “It’s just that they grow up so fucking fast, you know?”

“Ah.” Understanding suffused North’s features, his gaze landing on an exuberant Theta, “Yeah, I get that.”

Now that this thread of conversation had gotten started, Tucker figured he should just fucking roll with it. After all, it wasn’t like he could talk with anyone else here about parental concerns and have them fucking _get it_ , you know?

“I mean, Junior’s going to be fucking awesome at pretty much anything he does because he’s my kid and all that,” the teal-wearing man continued, though he slightly shivered all the same despite the proud inflection in his voice, “But a large part of me is scared shitless at the thought of him wanting to train at the Guild when he’s old enough.”

Shit, had Tucker just really been way too badass and amazing, making his exploits something any eager young child might want to have too? He couldn’t help how fucking awesome he was!

North turned his full attention onto the Beast Folk, a knowing smile on his face, “It sounds to me like you’re simply doing your due diligence as a parent, Tucker.”

Tucker shrugged his shoulders, feline ears twitching slightly at a breeze blowing by, “I guess so.” He bit his lower lip uncertainly before raising an eyebrow questioningly the taller man’s way, “What made you feel like Theta was ready for it?”

The question seemed to throw the violet-wearing man off-guard momentarily, as North blinked with widened eyes before tearing his gaze away. Both his expression and voice were rather distant when he spoke up at length, “I’m not entirely sure how much you know of his particular situation, Tucker,” he informed him, “But Theta was unfortunately born into this type of life.”

That may or may not be so eerily different from Junior’s own actual circumstances, Tucker couldn’t help but think wryly. He pushed that thought away to nod slightly in regards to what North said, “I don’t know all the dirty details, but I know it was a shitty situation.” Tucker offered as a reply.

“That might be putting it mildly.” North agreed, his gaze once again finding the two boys as a sad, sort-of smile formed on his face.

Tucker let out an awkward cough, definitely not the best with this feelings shit but deciding he had to at least try since he had brought the whole thing up, “Hey, for what little it probably is fucking worth, I think you’ve done a great job looking after Theta.”

“Thank you, Tucker. That actually means more than you think.” North’s smile became more open, “I can say the same to you in regards to Junior.”

Tucker grinned at the compliment, “Thanks, dude.” He said before frowning as Junior came racing by swinging his wooden sword at a laughing Theta, “Though I think it’s going to be a really long time before I’m okay with the idea of him adventuring.”

North returned his earlier grin easily enough, “Believe me when I say that is completely natural.”

Tucker opened his mouth to let out a good-natured wise crack, but he quickly snapped his jaws shut at the sight of three familiar figures walking through the city gates of Armonia.

It looked like Sarge, Lopez, and Doc were returning. All three were dressed in their customary traveling garb, a thin layer of dirt covering their equipment. They apparently hadn’t stopped too frequently on their way back to the city from their patrol.

Not too surprising considering that one of them was Sarge, who had always been something of a workaholic when it came to what he felt were his Guild duties. If the older man wasn’t tinkering around with some new invention he was convinced would make a difference out on the field, then he was always eagerly signing up for assignments that would surely have him testing his often very much ill-conceived battle strategies on something or someone. Tucker was convinced that was why Sarge and Grey got along so well, given her tendencies to go overboard when it came to her work too.

Sarge never went anywhere without his trusty, artificially-made companion Lopez, something that the often exasperated red-eyed man elaborated on in great detail to his sweetheart, Sheila, whenever he was able to be at the crystalline woman’s side given how she was one of the only people who somehow understood the golem.

Tucker swore that Sarge had managed to convince Kimball to _double_ their workload, which she had only reluctantly done due to Doc deciding that he wanted to tag along too in case Sarge did in fact collapse from sheer exhaustion somewhere along the way. Grey had said in a very obvious and pointed huff that was a strong possibility if the red-wearing man kept pushing himself. Tucker wasn’t going to step into _that_ minefield though. He preferred letting the crazy sort out their own relationship issues, instead of getting his brain broken.

A lot of Guild members were doubling down on missions now, largely as a direct result of what had happened with those Charon fuckers. He had lost count of how many times he had seen Church, Carolina, Tex, and Caboose off now. Hell, the only reason Tucker was able to chill out in Armonia with his kid recently was because York had asked to trade bodyguard duties with him for a while so that he and Delta could do some kind of scouting mission in another Outer Region territory.

Everyone was understandably on edge given what had happened and due to the subtle signs that something was _still_ happening all around them, something that they so frustratingly didn’t know the whole story on. And that fell in line with…

“Hey,” Tucker called out to the three weary travelers, “How did this last intel hunt go?”

It was hard to believe that someone with his obvious _“kill first, maybe prioritize asking questions as a solid fourth down the list later”_ mentality as Sarge would be good at information gathering, but Sarge was an older soldier with a lot of surprises under his belt. With one of the Guild members he had personally trained missing and two other close associates along with him, Sarge had been volunteering to try to find the person they had the best chance of possibly tracking down currently at a breakneck pace.

Though whether that was due to Sarge trying to distract himself, out of actual concern, or because he wanted to shoot the missing Guildsman down himself was anyone’s guess. Personally, Tucker tended to veer towards a combination of the later two himself these days.

After all, Dexter Grif was the missing Guildsman.

Lopez’s exasperated, oddly stiff sigh pretty much said it all before the darkened grimace that crossed over Sarge’s features had even properly set. The golem didn’t say a word as he trudged past them, stopping only to share a few words with Theta and Junior once they spotted him and waved him over. Lopez was always a hit with kids for some reason, even though no one could understand him.

Frank “Doc” DuFresne looked away as if working on putting on a brave face and just not yet comfortable with making eye contact. Even his flower crown seemed to be drooping.

“Fuck.” Tucker winced at their reactions, “Sorry I asked.”

The older Magic User in red was quick to shake his head, “It was a longshot at best and we all knew it.” Sarge informed the Beast Folk, “Grif might be a lazy good-fer-nothin’ most of the time, but he’s always been an expert at making himself scarce.”

“You’re telling me.” Tucker had experienced that particular skill of his heavyset friend far too much while trying to track him down for help on missions and those times had just been when Grif hadn’t wanted to deal with a hassle. Now that he was _really_ upset, finding Grif when he didn’t want to be found was going to be damn near impossible.

“And the increased Unsc patrols to help protect their allies from potential Charon attacks aren’t helping matters any either.” Doc added into the conversation.

“It’s been six months since the last kidnapping attempt,” Tucker noted with a sigh, “You’d think they would have gotten tired of that excuse to make everyone nervous by now.”

“Believe me, Tucker. I know.” Doc muttered in a voice that was uncharacteristically dark for his usual happy self.

Tucker frowned, not sure of what to say. The Unsc’s continued increase in activity at the borders, combined with the total lack of communication from Donut, was making them all nervous. No wonder the healer had decided to occupy his time with helping Sarge and Lopez.

The upset body language that Doc was displaying faded a second later, however, as he shook his head and shrugged, “Sorry. It’s been a long walk.” He quickly apologized with a sheepish smile before he glanced over at the two boys still conversing with Lopez. His smile turned larger as he trotted over to them with a wave, no doubt wanting to share some medicinal-based souvenir with the kids he sometimes babysat.

The three remaining men watched him go in terse silence, broken only by Tucker scowling at the ground in frustration, “It’s not like the fat-ass to just up and leave like that without saying _something_ first,” he finally got out, “Especially to his sister.”

Ever since he had known the pair, the Grif siblings had been quite close despite driving one another crazy. It was only natural considering that they had looked out for each other growing up.

But, then again, Grif had started getting extremely close to someone else too. And while Grif had obviously liked the kiss-ass, it wouldn’t have shocked Tucker if getting that close had scared the shit out of him also. The whole thing with Kai getting taken and Simmons sacrificing himself to go along with Donut’s crazy ass scheme must have hit home to the Orc just how much caring about someone could fucking _hurt_ when you might lose them.

The fucking moron would just be the type to try and push people away first in order to prevent that from happening, not realizing what a mistake that was until much later when it might be damn near impossible to correct. Fucking Grif.

Sarge let out a small harrumph in response, “This whole thing hasn’t smelled right to me from the get-go.” He admitted as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Just like all that sudden treaty talk with the Orcs and the empire.”

Tucker couldn’t help but smile somewhat. In a way, that was what had gotten Grif to this point in the first place.

“There are a lot of pressing issues right now.” North agreed rather bleakly himself.

Tucker sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat, “Yeah, well, I should probably go and give Kai the news.” His ears drooped down on top of his dark head of hair while his suddenly limp tail nearly touched the ground, “Not that she’s gonna take it well.”

The two humans nodded their heads, shooting Tucker sympathetic looks but in no way volunteering to take the proverbial bullet this time themselves.

North frowned slightly, turning his head in the direction of the training grounds, “Speaking of sisters…”

*****

“That,” South Dakota declared with finality, arms crossed over her chest, “Was fucking pathetic.”

There was an assorted heap of bodies gasping for breath on the ground in front of her, the apprentice Guildsmen all the worse for wear for having survived her training course.

“Oh boy, I think I’m dying!” Charles Palomo managed to spat out as he rolled over onto his back and stared upwards with a large amount of effort, “I see a bright light!”

Still struggling for breath herself but clamoring shakily onto her feet, Katie Jensen looked down at Palomo with awkward, bemused fondness as she gripped her knees to remain standing, “Um, Charlie? You’re staring up at the sun.”

Palomo let out a wheezing laugh as he blocked the intruding sunlight with his dark-skinned forearm, “I guess that would explain it then!” He joked, “Still kind of feel like dying though.”

“We _all_ do.” Antoine Bitters replied tersely as he hauled himself up off the ground, “No wonder you’ve been stuck in training this whole time.”

“More training just means I’m going to be flawless!” Palomo shot back just as cheerily as always, causing Bitters to roll his eyes and groan.

“Hey, just because you’re still mad that you have to be here with the rest of us despite being a hired goon for who knows how long doesn’t mean you have to be an angry jerk all the time.” Volleyball told Bitters succinctly as she helped pull her former only other Guild trainee up with Jensen’s help.

“Yeah, we’re going to be out dealing with dicks soon enough without _you_ being one.” Kaikaina Grif was quick to throw her hat into the ring too, though she sniffed disinterestedly a moment later, “Though I’d much rather be sucking dick or taking dick or having someone else doing the same with my dick, if you know what I mean.”

“Whatever.” Bitters rolled his eyes before the half-Orc’s last sentence caught up to his brain, “Wait. What?”

There was a groan from the figure with gray and yellow-tinged skin at South’s side, “That wasn’t even remotely subtle!” David Washington said in annoyance.

“Oh, subtlety can go shove it for all I care!” Kai informed the exasperated man before fixing Bitters with a challenging glare, “You heard me, bitch.”

Wisely, the human decided not to respond for once, opting instead to offer his hand begrudgingly down to the still collapsed Matthews, the younger Seas accepting the gesture gratefully while Bitters _tried_ acting like he didn’t care at all and continued failing miserably at appearing apathetic.

“The flaming logs we had to dodge were quite impressive.” John Elizabeth Andersmith said in an aside to Jensen as he batted his hand over a still smoking patch of singed clothing on his arm, “It was a truly excellent way to test our reaction times!”

“Too bad we kept getting hit by them.” His adopted charge smiled back at the older trainee with a self-deprecating smile.

The reminder didn’t seem to daunt Andersmith in the slightest as he continued beaming with a thoughtful look in his blue eyes, “Yes, but with our abilities we could handle that while the others could not. It was a practice in strategy to help ensure that we all got through the course together.”

From where he was standing and observing their conversation, Washington cast a dubious look South’s way, “Was that true?” He asked out of genuine curiosity.

South’s face remained impassive as she shrugged her shoulders in response, “Hey, if he wants to give me that much fucking credit, I’m not about to stop him.”

Washington continued to side-eye her, clearly not buying it. South just liked to make things as incredibly difficult and challenging as possible so that she could gloat in victory over being able to circumvent such trials with ease while others struggled.

“Whoa.” Palomo said while looking at Andersmith with something akin to awe before leaning over to whisper at Jensen, “He’s totally a glass half full kind of guy, huh?”

Jensen giggled, a rather proud look crossing over her tan and freckled face as she whispered back, “You don’t know the half of it.”

Things had certainly become rather lively over at the Guild ever since Charon’s kidnapping attempt. The fact that so many new members had signed up being one large factor of that. Several of the new recruits had active combat experience, so they were put to work right away largely because one of them, namely South, would have not accepted anything else.

Only Four Seven Niner and Filss weren’t back in Armonia on Guild business as of yet, Kimball deciding after the dwarven woman’s sales pitch that having eyes and ears in the sky so to speak at the moment was a good idea due to how things were developing back on the ground. The pilot had surprised everyone by offering to let Filss tag along now that she was losing her star mechanic, figuring that the diamond woman who had spent so much of her life as an unwilling captive of the Unsc and Charon’s _“Magic User Control Policy”_ might want to get a good, long look at what freedom for an airship pilot might truly mean while seeing the rest of the world. The true shock had been at how readily Filss had accepted the offer.

The number of apprentice Guildsmen had also increased. Jensen, said star mechanic on board Four Seven Niner’s airship previously, had been one of the first to volunteer upon learning of her boss’ new involvement with the group which had led to Andersmith signing up as well in light of their recent family reunion. Both were immensely grateful to the Guild for helping them and had wanted to do the same for others in need. Though he was older, Andersmith wished to also go through the training regimen himself due to what he felt was a lack of active experience in the types of matters that the Guild dealt with.

Matthews, despite his still rather extreme levels of temerity, had wholeheartedly signed on instead of tracking down his family for much the same reasoning. He also very much wanted to assist in finding the missing Grif given how the Orc had saved his life during that fight in the dungeon below the town of Rat’s Nest and due to how Kai and the other captives had tried looking out for him in his shocked and overwhelmed state back then too.

Bitters had quickly said he might as well sign up too after Matthews’ shaky declaration, noting that he didn’t have too many options since he was now officially a traitor to his former employers and his home life was pretty much nonexistent. Bitters acted like it was a huge ordeal, and he was _very_ much pissed off at getting stuck in the training regimen with the others given his past, but that aggravation seemed to lessen somewhat when a rather relieved Matthews earnestly told the young man that he was glad they were still stuck together.

Kai pretty much pushed her way in without heeding any word of argument or protest, determined to use the Guild’s resources to help track down her big brother and somehow help him figure out a way to save his _“nerd lover.”_ She had only barely agreed to at least finish some of the training beforehand at Tucker’s concerned behest.

Of course, more recruits meant more of a focus on training, which led to the here and now.

Washington surveyed the still clearly exhausted apprentices as they got their bearings again before turning to the pale blonde also doing the same rather impatiently with a heavy sigh, “They aren’t going to be able to become accomplished Guild members if they _don’t_ actually survive the training, you know.” He tried in vain to inform South yet again.

Ice blue eyes landed squarely on the Seas and South sneered, “What are you, their fucking mother or something?”

Washington couldn’t help but sigh again at her mocking jab, mentally counting backwards from ten. He wondered once more just how it was that he had gotten stuck on training duty with South of all people since she had even less patience for it than he did, and that was truly saying something.

Perhaps what the Seas had been thinking just then was more readable on his face than he would have liked, because South stared at him a moment longer with furrowed brows as if he had personally challenged her before she turned back to face the still struggling to stay upright trainees.

“I suppose,” South began to amend her initial assessment of their efforts, “I can give you guys _some_ credit seeing as how you actually managed to finish the course at all.”

It was as close to praise as anyone was likely to get from the abrasive, orchid-wearing swordswoman and they all gaped accordingly. South wasn’t through yet, turning her magnanimous and downright smug gaze back over at Washington in a way that let him know he was about to dread having spoken up at all: “Seeing as how a certain grey-gilled asshole had trouble even getting through the second part way back when.”

Washington felt his face heat up in direct response to that reminder of his rather epic failings as a rookie Freelancer when he heard a disbelieving Palomo mutter _“No fucking way!”_ right before Volleyball elbowed him to get him to shut up.

He cast his eyes to the ground, his verbal response an embarrassed mumble, “I still don’t know how you got ahold of Plague Beast _piranhas_.” Washington muttered.

South was grinning triumphantly from ear to ear, “Aren’t you part fish, _Washy_? Surely you should be man enough to handle angry cousins.”

He knew the skin on his face was darkening even more in a blush at her taunting, but whatever probably very much ill-advised retort he was about to counter her with died on his tongue when he caught sight of both C.T. and Tucker approaching over her shoulder.

His suddenly preoccupied expression had South turning around to catch what had so caught his gaze, a scowl quickly forming on her face when she caught on to how his attention was so thoroughly taken by the dark-skinned Beast Folk in particular. Her annoyed mood only lessened when she caught the brown-armored woman smiling slightly at her two former Freelancer teammates, offering them a small wave in greeting.

“Okay,” South turned back to the trainees with another roll of her eyes at Washington’s antics, “We’re fucking done here. C.T. will be handing out your assignments for the day, same as last time.” She narrowed her eyes pointedly, “And I don’t want to hear any bitching about them this time, you hear me?” She huffed, “I don’t fucking care even if it’s something stupid like getting a squirrel out of a goddamned tree!”

“Question!” it was no surprise that Palomo’s hand shot up then, his arm covered with tan with aqua-trim clothing obvious over the heads of the others, “What if you’re allergic? Can you complain then?”

Bitters shook his head from where he was standing behind the oblivious dark-skinned young man with Matthews, “Goddamn it, Palomo.” He muttered under his breath, clearly exasperated.

South’s eyes narrowed to near slits, “Shut the fuck up, Palomo.”

The round of questioning apparently over with, South promptly stalked over to where C.T. had stopped several meters away from the group so as to not interrupt anything, arms crossed over her chest once more as she started speaking to the brunette in a low voice.

The trainees began filing past Washington and the approaching Tucker to join her at C.T.’s side, all save for Kai. The Orc and Beast Folk hybrid stayed back to speak with her friend. Her action was not lost on Volleyball, who tentatively stayed on the outlier of the trainee group gathered around the two older females to get their assignments, glancing over at Kai with visible concern.

_“Anything?”_

Both Kai and Washington asked at the same time, causing them to regard one another for a moment before turning their regard back to Tucker, who was slightly startled by their abruptness.

Washington had been asking mostly out of the hope that perhaps Tucker’s worry could be alleviated by some sort of news at least. Why that mattered so much to him, he wasn’t sure yet. He knew that paled in comparison to the worry and fear that Kai must be going through. After all, on top of a good friend going away, her sole family had vanished at around the same time without so much as a word. It was almost frightening how many past experiences the Seas had that helped him relate.

Tucker frowned and bit his lower lip, shaking his head with regret.

The hopeful, earnest look that always crossed over Kai’s yellow-marked features at the possibility of finding out something fell in a single moment and Washington fought the urge to look away as her butterfly wings, so deceptively fragile-looking compared to her actual person, drooped alongside her slumped shoulders.

But her disappointment only lasted a moment, as she was quick to put on a brave face and Washington was once again in awe of her continued displays of resilience.

“Well, it doesn’t matter really. I’m sure that the flashy teleporter guy and Simmons are going to be fine, and my big bro is tough.” Kai stated out loud as though to reassure herself, a flash of anger hitting her briefly as she added, “I’m just going to have to kick Dex’s ass for making me worry the minute he gets back.”

Tucker grinned in the face of her stubbornness, “Hell yeah, that’s the spirit!”

The two high-fived, a slight smile forming on Washington’s face at the encouraging sight before he tilted his head in the direction of the still lingering Volleyball and the others, “You should probably go and get your assignment, Kai.” He said.

Kai immediately turned to Washington and shot him a distrustful glare, “Don’t tell me what to do, _cop_.” She told him defiantly even as she stormed off in the direction of C.T. and the rest regardless.

Washington watched as she reached Volleyball, the blonde resting an unsure hand on the other young woman’s shoulder. Kai leaned into the consoling gesture before slinging her arm around the human’s shoulders as they walked side-by-side into the fray. He was never winning that particular fight with her.

Tucker watched him observing the trainees with an exasperated sort-of fondness, his smirk growing at the sight, “Seems like the training’s going well.”

Washington blushed at having been caught being foolishly sentimental by the surprisingly keen-eyed Guildsman, turning back around to face Tucker. He nodded in response, though he couldn’t help frowning all the same, “I’m _still_ surprised that South initially volunteered to help with it though.”

“Eh, she probably just did it to freak out her brother.” Tucker said quickly, though a sly look lit up his brown eyes and his tail swished from side to side as he regarded the platinum blonde in question bending over to say something to her friend as C.T.’s attention was diverted amongst the crowding around apprentices, “Though I would fucking bet that C.T. being in charge of handing out training missions played a _huge_ role too.”

Washington regarded Tucker in surprise at that remark, “What do you mean?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Immediately, a black eyebrow rose up, “Fucking seriously?” Tucker joked incredulously, shaking his head, “Learn to read the room, dude.”

Washington’s gray eyes widened slightly in realization, and he glanced over at his two teammates before turning back to Tucker to ask in a low voice, to avoid getting his ass kicked if overheard, if he was indeed implying what he thought he was.

Tucker, however, spoke up first and Washington was caught off-guard by the speculative look thrown his way, “I’m more surprised that you decided to stick around once things had settled down.” He admitted, “Weren’t you just helping us out because Caboose’s pilot sister was a friend of yours? I mean, you seemed pretty fucking stressed with all the other Freelancers around originally.”

The admission from Tucker that he had been especially curious about Washington’s decision to officially join up with the Guild caused his gills and lungs to work double time for a moment, though Washington wasn’t sure why the often aggravating Beast Folk seemed to have that type of effect on him these days.

Washington looked at the ground, “I haven’t exactly had a lot going for me in the wake of Freelancer.” He muttered softly, “And with Charon still in operation,” he shrugged before looking up at Tucker’s face once more, “I figured staying with the Guild was the right call.”

Tucker grinned, “You _could_ just admit that you liked hanging out with us more than you thought you would, you know.”

His smug remark had the heat rushing all across the Seas’ body again and he glanced away, “No comment.” Washington mumbled out.

By this time, the trainees had all scattered in different directions to go about the rest of the day, South and C.T. nowhere to be seen as well. Tucker looked over at the spot that they had been gathered around before rather thoughtfully.

“Our ranks have definitely increased since that cluster fuck at Rat’s Nest.” Tucker stated at length before an odd sort-of smile settled over his features, “Though I bet you ten to one that Grif’s going to be fucking pissed when he finds out that Kai joined up.”

Washington picked up on how Tucker’s expression darkened then, “Are you still worried about your friends?” He asked cautiously.

It was a foolish question, one that he already knew the answer to well enough, but he wasn’t sure of what else to say. His expressing too much sympathy might be wholly inappropriate to their current dynamic.

Tucker grimaced at the question, “After six months of no fucking contact, who wouldn’t be?” He asked as if the answer should be obvious.

Washington wasn’t sure how to respond, but he frowned slightly and reached out a hand to briefly grasp the younger man’s shoulder.

“Hey, you two assholes!”

South and C.T. were back, the orchid-wearing woman’s shout causing both men to jump. She had her hands circled around her mouth to call out again, while C.T. watched their reactions with an amused, way too knowing look in her eyes that had Washington thinking he might want to avoid bringing up Tucker around her anytime soon.

“Move it or we’re leaving you the fuck behind for real this time!” South shouted again.

Tucker rolled his eyes in obvious exaggeration but started to comply regardless, Washington moving to walk in place beside him.

A sudden thought crossed Tucker’s mind, his demeanor changing instantly as he turned towards Washington once more, “Dude, you’ll never believe what Junior said to Theta earlier!” He said giddily.

Washington started at the proud, excited energy now coursing through the other man at the chance to recollect his son’s antics and he couldn’t help but smile himself in response, “Yeah?” He asked Tucker, indicating for the Beast Folk to continue.

“Yeah! So, they were playing and—”

For just one brief, utterly selfish moment, the current issues and problems that the Guild and the Outer Regions faced faded from Washington’s mind entirely.

*****

The cold, metal floor slammed painfully against the palms of his hands and knees as his falling form made contact with it. Richard “Dick” Simmons couldn’t suppress a wince as he closed his eyes tightly against the sudden onslaught of blindingly bright blurriness that had so thoroughly overwhelmed his eyesight.

The redhead’s entire lanky form shook and he spent several agonizing moments trying to collect himself on the ground, droplets of sweat dripping into a tiny puddle beneath his face from his sopping wet hair.

It was a struggle to keep his limbs from giving out completely, and his whole body convulsed with the effort it took to draw in enough breath.

Hovering above him the whole time, however, was the sudden all-encompassing warmth of yet another restored Relic.

Simmons gazed upwards at it shakily once he could manage to open his eyes, trying to focus on the soothing warmth despite his current discomfort, on how the warmth timed with the pulsating blue light the magic in the stone was giving off now was much better than the sheer cold void that had nearly swallowed him whole when he had first approached the Relic.

He still found it nearly impossible to believe that he could activate such hidden wells of power, that he could somehow coax _life_ back out of something so damaged that only close inspection could reveal its stark difference from any other rock, its connection to the Elves and to their deaths.

Simmons shuddered, glad that the split-second mental vision he had gotten this time was simply of the sky turning red overhead for a moment before fading to black. A fractured glimpse into a nightmarish past that contained no other deeper, hidden meanings or truths to it.

He could deal with _that_. It was the longer memory glimpses, the ones that showed people and creatures in their last panicked, desperate moments, the ones that contained emotions along with the story they told that left him devastated for a good long while.

The Magic User bit his lower lip and, with what felt like a monumental effort given how sluggish he felt now all over, groggily stood up. He was proud of only staggering a little as he wiped a freckled forearm over his head to get rid of some of the sweat there, grimacing distastefully at the sensation of his red hair and maroon clothes sticking to his skin.

A mocking slow clap started up as the door to the observation chamber opened, a smirking Felix waltzing into the space with his partner Locus along with Aiden Price right behind them.

Locus never took off his full body armor, so Simmons was never sure about his expressions or appearance beyond the fact that he was fucking tall, whatever species he was. But Felix always made it a point to at least remove his helmet even if he didn’t dress in more casual garb for this endless string of tests. He seemed to thrive on the uneasiness that Simmons was radiating and wanted the redhead to get a good look at his gloating smirk. His pointy ears, far too similar to Simmons’ own before he had butchered them to try and reassure his mother that he would turn out normal despite them, always seemed to taunt Simmons too.

“Not bad, not bad,” the shorter of the two mercenaries stated as Felix sauntered further into the room, amusement clear as day on his face when Simmons took a fearful step back and nearly backed right into the artifact he had so painstakingly restored only a short time ago, “But this kind of Relic is small fry compared to the ones we’re going to the Outer Regions for.”

Simmons swallowed, his throat painfully dry as he tried not to think about his friends just then. About Grif…

Price was writing something down as usual after yet another successful test run, though his brown eyes flickered upwards indifferently all the same, “Indeed,” he agreed with Felix before adding, “However, testing Simmons’ endurance levels with these trials is still quite paramount.” He smiled thinly, the gesture always failing to reach the rest of his face, “You’ll find that healing Remnants out on the field will not be nearly as trying as they might otherwise be as a result, Richard.”

Simmons opened his mouth slightly, unable to do anything more than gape disbelievingly at the man who had once been his uncle’s right hand, who had helped to torture him as a child in ways he only ever thankfully recalled now as distant memories, who had assisted in tearing his cousin Church _apart_ and nearly killed his other cousin Carolina, who had hurt and killed so many people…

All while his own father had known and done nothing. Only to then require Price’s assistance in doing the exact same thing on his own son.

And for what, exactly? More power than the sheer staggering amount he already had at his disposal?

Simmons still wasn’t able to wrap his brain around it. And Price acting like any of this was being done to somehow help _him_ , it was so blatantly false that he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. He wanted to do both, hopelessly enough these days.

Felix gauged Simmons’ reaction with an increasing smirk, “Personally, I just think Control’s a bit of a slave driver!” He remarked, eyes gleaming with sadistic mirth, “Even with his own fucking kid!”

“Felix,” Locus’ gruff voice spoke out a warning from where he was standing as still as a statue off to the side, “That’s enough.”

Felix turned his way with a careless shrug, “What? It’s the truth.”

“Would you rather be assisting Sharkface in his scouting efforts?” Price asked him cordially.

The brown-haired mercenary made a face at the suggestion, “Ugh, _pass_.” He made no effort to hide his disdain for the other Charon operative, “Though I do admit I’m kind of impressed that he hasn’t burned down anything that’s sure to be missed yet.” He raised an eyebrow speculatively, “Maybe he has more self-control than I thought?”

“You would do well to attempt the same.”

Simmons stiffened at the all too familiar voice as Malcolm Hargrove had not visited this particular Magic Division facility _(prison)_ for weeks.

Locus and Price both straightened their postures at his presence while Felix simply crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at the comment that had been thrown his way so haughtily, “I wouldn’t fucking be here if you didn’t need me.” He reminded the Unsc representative and leader of Charon smugly, “And I’m pretty sure that you pay me the big amounts specifically for when I _do_ lose control.”

“Yet there’s no telling when those circumstances will change.” Hargrove told Felix evenly, “I’d be mindful of that.”

“Whatever you say.” Felix was quick to turn around and leave the room with Locus, though not before he turned in the doorway and gave Hargrove’s back the middle finger when he was sure that only Simmons could see the gesture, knowing that Simmons would be too terrified to tattle on him.

“Let’s go, Richard.” Hargrove was staring at Simmons as dismissively as always, “Price has preparations to make.”

The eerily calm man in question bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement, “Of course, sir.” Price said before getting back to his report.

Despite how drained he still was, Simmons struggled to keep up with his father’s pace. It was very apparent that the old man wasn’t going to deign to slow down to wait for his exhausted son.

The corridors they were walking through were the ones that lead back to Simmons’ room. He knew them by heart at this point as they were his only path through the facility since he was only ever called upon to perform tests of his Healing Aura.

Simmons would have been naïve to think that Malcolm Hargrove would allow him any further freedoms considering how quickly he had cast him into the care of the Magic Division when his abilities had first appeared despite their being flesh and blood. The extreme circumstances of whatever Charon was up to now only further cemented that.

For a long while, only an uncomfortable silence filled the air between father and son. Simmons stared down at his fidgeting hands, noting how he used to always long for walks with his father after having been abandoned by him such a long time ago. Now, staring at Hargrove’s cold, stern features, he honestly couldn’t think of why he had _ever_ desired that of a man incapable of giving any sort of affection whatsoever to those he felt were beneath him.

“It seems as if whatever foolish inclination you had towards leaving is gone now.” Hargrove finally spoke up, though his eyes resolutely stared ahead.

Simmons frowned, deciding that pointing out how he had been whisked away to a secure Magic Division facility who-knew-where in the Unsc immediately upon their return with two murderous mercenaries and who knew how many other secret Charon operatives keeping him under lock and key when he wasn’t being called on for experimental tests kind of did that particular trick for him.

But Simmons knew that the staunch politician and businessman before him didn’t appreciate sarcasm in the slightest, so he simply nodded his head and said, “Yes, Father.” as he had been trained to do since birth.

“Our methods are undoubtedly harsh,” Hargrove continued after hearing that supposed affirmation of his initial assessment since he would never see Simmons as having enough of a will to deceive him intentionally, “But you will come to understand Charon’s goals soon enough.”

Simmons decided to say nothing in response because what he had already gathered about their coup goals he very much hated.

“You playing such a pivotal role in all of this is something to be truly proud of, Richard.”

Simmons wondered if his uncle had said much the same to Church and Carolina before he had destroyed everything they cared for. He felt sick as he nodded his head again, simply to dispel the lingering fuzziness from his brain.

His father, self-absorbed asshole that he was, took it as a twisted sign of meek acceptance, “The prince has been asking about you again.” He said, like one talking about something trivial.

_That_ reveal gave Simmons pause, and he glanced over towards his father. The man had a grimace of distaste on his face, as he always did whenever he mentioned Donut or the royal family at large.

“Can I speak with him?” Simmons asked hopefully, despite knowing full well what the answer to his request would be.

He had to ask though since he hadn’t seen Franklin Delano Donut since they had been brought back to the Unsc Empire. Donut had been taken away to meet his family in order to avoid a massive political fallout that wouldn’t do any potential usurpers any good at present and hopefully to gain potential intel on Charon’s activities while Simmons was returned to his father’s _“loving”_ arms.

Simmons hadn’t even been able to see his mother again. Did she even know that he was still alive? He honestly wouldn’t put it past an uncaring Hargrove to tell his wife that her only child had died to avoid further complications and entanglements to future goals. The thought made him even sicker.

He had _never_ regretted a decision as badly as this one. Fuck, he just sucked at making them in general.

No wonder Grif hadn’t even been able to look him in the eye back then when he had decided to help Donut, let alone say goodbye later on. He had been an idiot!

Hargrove shot Simmons a pointed look for the first time since this painful conversation had begun, “I don’t believe there is much wisdom in that idea, Richard.” He stated mockingly, “Do you?”

Simmons’ face flushed and he swallowed nervously, looking down at his feet as he quickly shook his head no.

They were approaching his room now, “Felix and Locus will be here to retrieve you for the mission tomorrow morning.” Hargrove informed him matter of fact.

Simmons was surprised by how quickly things seemed to be progressing now, given how methodically the tests had been handled. He briefly wondered if maybe Hargrove felt pressured by someone or something to tip his hand earlier than he had planned.

“Where exactly in the Outer Regions will we be going?” Simmons asked nervously.

If it was close to a Guild branch, maybe he could run away and get into contact with someone. Fuck, if he could even get a message back to Doyle somehow!

They probably hadn’t bothered telling him yet for those very thoughts suddenly swirling through his mind. His dad and Price were practical men, after all. Then again, for all that he supposedly mattered to their goals, they seemed awfully fond of keeping him out of the fucking loop in general.

“You don’t need to know.”

Case in fucking point. He wasn’t terribly surprised or bothered by Hargrove’s response at this point, so used as he was to that kind of treatment.

With that, Simmons was left alone without so much as a parting word from the man who had at least played a barely minimal effort in bringing him into this world. The lock clicked into its customary place as his exhausted body sank onto the mattress of his sparsely decorated room.

Prison cell, really. It reminded him of an only slightly nicer painted version of the ruins where Charon _(his father)_ had been keeping Kai and the other Magic Users imprisoned.

He hoped that they wouldn’t try going after any of them again at least. With all the people on his payroll, and all the Magic Users _“enslaved”_ for their own protection by the Unsc that Hargrove as the Magic Division’s head had access to, he already had more than enough people at his disposal to form a veritable army.

So, why the extra effort then? Simmons frowned up at the ceiling, not wanting to know and yet definitely not liking not knowing the bigger picture all the same. He closed his eyes and took in a few deep breaths to try and calm his nerves, feeling worse at failing to do so.

Still, the redhead tried reaching out in vain yet again to someone he desperately, desperately needed to talk to right now. He could picture him too: his voice, his laugh, orange swirling marks on tanned skin and black, curly hair, with brown eyes that he could just sink into. The warmth that always seemed to exude from his very being, which seemed to flow right into Simmons and just made him feel like, no matter what, he wasn’t fucking alone anymore.

He hadn’t realized just how much he had been constantly craving and seeking that connection out, how much he had come to value and cherish it until he found himself denied it.

Whatever strange magical bond connected him and the lazy Orc known as Dexter Grif, what Grif had always referred to as Linking Magic in their private conversations on the subject with a barely concealed glimmer of excitement and contentment at the thought, Simmons felt only a strong sense of coldness and a longing ache at it now somehow being blocked.

It was definitely not him causing the block either, as he was certainly _trying_ his hardest now despite not being nearly as frustratingly adept or at ease with the whole ancient magic spirit connection thing as Grif always seemed to be.

Which meant _what_ , exactly?

Only one of them or the other could mentally force themselves to temporarily block the connection, and with great effort and exertion at that. He at least knew that little bit about the lore behind the almost completely lost art.

Grif was finally putting effort into _something_ , and that realization felt like it would rip his heart out of his chest even more thoroughly than any of the shit his father put him through. The Orc must truly fucking hate him to do that.

Simmons curled in on himself in a tight ball atop his rumpled blankets, truly feeling alone again for the very first time since he had left Valhalla with Grif.

He was both angry and sad all at once, his chest aching as he tried to breathe in calm, even breaths _(he was failing at that too)_ and he tried not to rub too much at his suddenly stinging, blurry eyes. He tried not to focus on the void that he was sure was going to swallow him whole at any fucking second.

But all Simmons could remember instead was how Grif hadn’t looked him in the eye. How he hadn’t even said goodbye.

He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what the fat-ass had been doing since then, and he hated himself even more than usual for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s back! :D And here’s a lengthy, emotional chapter to celebrate and fill in some of the events of the time gap to get things started! XD
> 
> Also, it just occurred to me that I started this chapter out by delving into two really good dads talking about their bonds with their sons, carrying that over to the second part with Andersmith bonding with Jensen again along with Tucker gushing more about Junior to Wash, and then I went and ended this first part of _Remnants: Volume II_ by delving into how sh!tty of fathers Hargrove and the Director happen to be. That was not at all intentional, but I’ll take it. XD
> 
> One of Kai’s comments in this chapter MAY have been inspired by a line she said in the latest Season 16 FIRST episode. :D Kudos if you can figure out which one it is! XD
> 
> So, _Volume II_ is getting underway and promises to be an extremely lengthier ride than the first one! Yay? XD I will be delving into what is going on with Donut and the other characters all in due time, I promise! :)
> 
> …And I will most certainly be delving into what is up with Grif specifically, have no fear! I won’t abandon one of the main characters to plot holes. :) He is going to have a really big role to play, and some much needed hearts-to-hearts with Kai and the others too. Along with some sorely needed by this point romantic moments with Simmons because I do seem to be going really slow burn in this story, huh? :D IT SHALL HAPPEN, I SWEARS IT!
> 
> I’m so excited to finally get back into this AU again. I missed this oddball fantasy-verse, oddly enough. :D Thank you for taking the journey with me once more! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The Orc female Dylan Andrews ran her white and cobalt-swirled hand over her face as she stood in a back alley, away from the overly curious and suspicious glares that the human residents of Valhalla threw her way. “I can’t believe they didn’t even give me the chance to say no to this assignment.” She murmured to herself for the fourth time since her arrival in the Unsc-controlled city.

“Aw, cheer up, Dylan!” Her rookie partner for this current job, a half-human and half-dwarf dressed in matching white and cobalt stated reassuringly, “It isn’t _so_ bad!”

Dylan was fairly certain the guy had only been hired because the job was a joke and he was her editor’s nephew, so why the hell should she play nice? She wheeled on Jax before the young man could even blink, annoyance surging through her veins at the very suggestion.

“This is _just_ as bad as I know it to be, Jax.” Dylan told him emphatically, “You should know as well as I do that what we’re being tasked to write is nothing more than a propaganda piece for both the Unsc and the Orcs.”

Technically speaking, Dylan and Jax belonged to the largest free news agency in the Outer Regions. But she supposed money talked more than the truth, especially when two very powerful factions wanted everyone to think that they were getting along splendidly after so long being at one another’s throats.

“Well, yeah,” Jax remained annoyingly nonplussed as he scratched the back of his dark head of hair and grinned, “But at least we got to travel in style thanks to those fancy portals!”

Dylan groaned at his reminder at how even their traveling was being heavily regulated, “I have more integrity than this.” She replied, huffing in indignation.

“It wasn’t like we were given a choice.” Jax reminded her gently, his tone aggravatingly patronizing.

She sighed, getting an _“I know.”_ out of clenched teeth.

There really wasn’t much one could say when the people wanting a particular story were so powerful. If she wanted to continue exposing actual truths, she had to put up with this kind of bullshit. But on the other hand…!

“If we were to land an even larger story than the continued negotiations, I could write about that instead.” Dylan stated determinedly, as if one was going to fall out of the sky that very moment.

After all, given how insistent both sides were on this story coming out, she just _knew_ there was something big brewing behind the scenes that they just didn’t want the public catching wind of. It wasn’t in her conscience to actively lie to people, so if she could just find out what it was they were hiding…

Jax hummed in agreement with her, “Yeah, but what can we do about that right now?”

Dylan frowned in thought, “I don’t know, but we’ll think of _something_.”

She was sure as hell not going to write that propaganda piece if she could avoid it.

“Would an inside source do the trick?” A cheerful voice behind them asked suddenly, “And I mean a _deep_ inside one.”

Dylan started at the pink-wearing young human who just seemed to appear there. He looked around Jax’s age, and had a definitely non-threatening vibe to him that somehow managed to still set her on edge. Maybe that was because she had been quite certain no one besides Jax and her had been in the alley before, thus why she had chosen this particular spot to dive into her impromptu rant.

But then again…

“Are you the contact I was told to be expecting?” Dylan composed herself and asked, ignoring Jax’s confusion as to what she meant. The brunette would tell him about the strange, glittery message that had been left on her bed at the inn later since it had started this city-wide trek.

The dirty blond-haired male grinned and did a quick, extremely flexible, bow, “That’s right! And boy do I have a scoop for you if you’re interested!”

Dylan shared a look with Jax before turning back to the expectant human, “I am.” She quickly told him without preamble.

*****

Dexter Grif was currently as far away from the Orcish town of Iris as he could get without being accused of desertion, closing his eyes and turning his ears off to the rest of the world as best he could in a vain attempt to ignore his immediate situation. …Which was, admittedly, largely a result of his own fuck-ups.

No one had ever told him to just up and leave when it felt like the world was caving in, to run straight to the restrictive freedom his mother and birth father’s continued post-humous status as Orc citizens gave him. He had decided that all on his own, because facing the alternative ( _just straight up telling the puny, stubborn human why the plan had been stupid and why not being near him would suck_ ) was just too much effort.

The potential for backfire was just too much to take. So what did he do instead? Essentially burned the bridge before someone else did it for him, even though doing so was _also_ the worst thing he could have done.

No one could say the orange-wearing Orc was overly bright when it came to emotions, to facing things head-on. He was probably a mockery even amongst the people here due to his survival when others hadn’t, his showing up only when he needed to lie low for awhile in the Outer Regions.

About the only time he had _ever_ volunteered for service duty was when he had the chance to meet up with Simmons again back when the redhead had been sequestered as a Magic User in Valhalla. Now the situation was roughly the same, but Grif was doing it for the opposite reason, his not wanting to see the human hurt through his own naïve desire to help others.

It was a bitter sort of irony that Grif didn’t want to dwell on any more than necessary.

After all, it was horrible enough that he hadn’t said goodbye to Simmons thanks to how upset he had been following the Magic User stupidly _volunteering_ to go back into captivity, but he also hadn’t told his little sister where he was going either. Kai was going to be understandably pissed. Even worse, there was no way now for him to get in touch with her or the Guild again about all the disturbing military preparations going on in the Orcish territories for a nation supposedly in the middle of peace talks with their greatest enemy with how closely communications were being monitored.

Grif’s running like he had made him about as much of a voluntary prisoner as Simmons now undoubtedly was.

And, because he was _still_ a complete and utter moron, the chubby Orc was afraid to fully tear down his mental barriers to try communicating with Simmons through their Linking Magic bond again. He was afraid of what he might find out upon doing so, worried about the awful things he might learn that Simmons had already experienced.

Plus, how the fuck could he ever truly apologize?

For the millionth time since his feet had dragged him back here, Grif wondered just what in the hell he was really doing and what it was all for now. Was he just vainly hoping that the peace talks could offer him a way back into the Unsc?

“Grif, Grif!”

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, someone called out his name. Fucking typical.

Loco was practically bouncing on the heels of his feet just a few meters away from Grif’s napping spot, smiling brightly. Grif tried to not picture Caboose.

The younger Orc was a member of the _“Throw Away”_ unit that Grif had been assigned to called the Blues and Reds. They were all a bunch of weirdos, even by Orcish standards, which was probably why they were clumped together. All of them had some startingly similar traits to people he knew from the Guild ( _his own Reds and Blues, if you will_ ), but there were some noticeable differences once he paid close attention.

Naturally, Grif had gone out of his way to avoid them, especially their annoying suck-up, Gene. Even still, he’d occasionally have to interact with Loco’s unit. Their leader, Temple, especially had an unnerving way of just staring at him when he thought Grif wasn’t looking.

But Loco was harmless and innocent enough, and because he seemed to get along with Grif the best, the others had taken to using him to pass along messages to the heavyset soldier.

Squinting his dark eyes shut for a brief moment, Grif cracked them open once more, “What is it this time?”

Loco clapped his hands together excitedly, “The humans are here!”

Oh, right. Grif vaguely recalled the talk that _Charon_ representatives would be traveling here to inspect some nearby Relic and Remnant sites. He hadn’t paid much attention due to the bile forming in the back of his throat at the time. He groaned and got up, “Fucking perfect.”

Rather than be a pissy bitch to Loco for just trying to keep him informed, he shuffled along behind the black-haired, blue-swirled Orc to the center of town where the one Teleportation Gate of this area had been set up. Odd how _only_ the Orcs and the Unsc even had those things, now that he thought about it.

There were figures standing before the portal already, two of them the smaller stature one always associated typically with humans. One of the smaller figures, clad in orange and steel, was discussing something with the Orcish commanders.

Grif froze upon seeing the familiar coloring, recognizing that fucking asshole mercenary Felix right away. Which meant that the towering figure dressed head to toe in steel and green had to be his partner, Locus, who was currently looming over…

Grif’s heart clenched painfully in his chest.

_Simmons_ was standing there in Iris, looking horribly unsure and utterly alone even amidst the numerous gawking bystanders.

For once, Grif wasn’t sure if the orange helm he still had on was a good thing.

*****

“D, are you sure this is the place?” York asked his partner as they came upon an empty clearing amongst the trees.

From his vantage point still on his own steed’s saddle, Delta nodded, “The information I gathered was quite clear on the location, York.” He informed him, sounding patronizingly patient.

The brown-haired man frowned and scratched his chin, his good eye peering around the spot that was clearly quite vacant save for them and the odd woodland creature, “Right.” He began, “But here’s the thing: there’s _no one_ here.”

They had been on the trail of a few Insurrection-now-turned-Charon operatives for a few weeks already, and the search was starting to wear thin on York’s nerves since he could be doing something better with his time. Like hanging out with Carolina, who he knew for a fact had been having a hard time of it even if she would never openly admit it since they had lost contact with her cousin and the prince.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that, my dear York.” A heavily-accented, far too familiar voice spoke up from behind some trees.

Three forms emerged on the other side of the clearing just then, and York swore under his breath at the two white-wearing males and the one blue-wearing individual.

“Ah, Gamma.” Delta seemed as nonplussed as always as he tilted his head slightly in way of greeting to his _“relative,”_ “I take it that you were the source of those information leaks?”

“That is correct, Delta.”

York had always found Gamma’s deadpan manner of speech grating, even more-so when it revealed that they had just been played. With a slight snarl, he reached for the weapon at his side…

“At ease, York. Let’s keep things civil now.” Florida’s tone was mild as he lifted his hands in the air far from his own assortment of concealed and unconcealed weapons as if to placate York. It didn’t. He had seen Florida in action far too many times to ever fully relax his guard around him.

“Right.” Wyoming huffed out in agreement, “We just want to talk.”

“Something big is looming on the horizon.” Florida told York and Delta rather seriously.

York exchanged a look with Delta and dropped his hand with a sigh, though he didn’t relax in the slightest. He really hated surprises, and uber-cryptic remarks in general.

*****

She read the reports so many times now that the words were quickly becoming a jumbled mess. Vanessa Kimball sighed as she turned her head away from the papers to stare out the window into the daylight streaming through Armonia’s streets.

“There is no mistaking the patterns beneath the surface.” Donald Doyle intoned seriously, voicing Kimball’s own thoughts on the matter quite succinctly.

He was right, of course. Damn it. The activity and intelligence reports they had both been getting said the exact same things.

Charon was beginning to make their move, whatever their end goal might be. They were trying to keep their activities a secret from the Outer Regions and even the rest of the Unsc, but they hadn’t gone completely without notice or response.

Most troubling of all to the ice-tinted, dark-skinned Seas was that it seemed as if the Unsc might be trying to build up an even stronger military force in the Outer Regions as a response to what they suspected was _“outlaw”_ activity against their interests.

Kimball frowned in response to Doyle’s comment, “Your continued presence in my office certainly attests to that.” She told him, her eyes noting that he had shut her office door for privacy.

Doyle sighed, “I had thought perhaps in some way to reassure you since you have been troubled by the admirals and generals visiting the embassy almost daily now.” He stayed a few meters away, as if scared she might take her anxiety out on him.

“By reminding me how bad things have been getting?” She asked in a wry tone.

Doyle’s face went completely red, as though the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind until she had just said so. It probably hadn’t. She rather thought that quality of the human was oddly endearing when she wasn’t being infuriated by it.

Right now? Now, she was just more exasperated by too many other things to name.

“I’m actually grateful.” She stated quietly in order to reassure Doyle that any frustrations she was feeling at the moment were not directed at him this time, “I’m just wondering what exactly the endgames are for the Unsc and Charon in all of this.”

Not to mention that there was always the wild card of the Orcs to the west to contend with. They had been rather quiet since their negotiations with the Unsc had begun, but there was definitely some kind of activity happening within their borders all the same.

There was another world-weary sigh from Doyle as he slumped into his seat across from her own and she thought how odd it was that he visited enough now to have a designated seat in her office, “I don’t have the faintest idea.” He mumbled.

She nodded grimly, “We are sorely lacking in information.”

Donut had planned on alleviating that concern for them, but something had obviously happened upon his and Simmons’ return to the lands dominated by the Unsc that prevented him from contacting them.

Neither Doyle nor Kimball had to say out loud how they knew that the lack of serious intel was putting them at a very real, very insurmountable disadvantage.

*****

“You’re the prince of the Unsc Empire.” Dylan stated, staring at Donut blankly.

The pink-wearing human had taken the Orc and Jax to a small, hole-in-the-wall café that had been adjacent to the alleyway where he had first appeared. Somehow, over three cups of steaming, rose-infused tea, the story was now finally falling into place over just who exactly her mystery contact was.

“Well, I’m not one to brag but…” Donut trailed off as he set his teacup carefully down in the prissy way of royalty, nodding his head once to confirm her statement.

Jax seemed just as taken back by the reveal as she was, “You’d been gone for a while or something, right?”

Yes, that was quite true. The Unsc had tried covering up the fact, but rumors of the prince’s disappearance had still spread throughout the various regions regardless. There had even been the very real threat of Unsc forces amassing to try and find him.

“Oh, that was just a vacation that got a little out of hand.” Donut said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “But I think I _maybe_ should have been polite and left a note since my parents are overreacting now about me ever even leaving Valhalla again.”

So, Dylan surmised, he was essentially being confined to the imperial capital. No wonder Donut had gone through such strange lengths to even have this little chat with them. …Though that still didn’t explain the glitter.

“Trouble is brewing and, unlike this fabulous tea, I’d hate to leave it stooping for long. Especially when my friends are jammed in tight to this mess.” The dirty blond stated without preamble, a serious glint in his brown eyes despite his odd word choice, “I have to plow them through from behind!”

“So you want us to pass along information for you?” Dylan asked while Jax promptly choked on a sip of tea. She was a professional, after all.

“You reporters do have access to places I can’t get to anymore. With your well-oiled desire to delve into what’s really going on, I think we could have a great working relationship.” Donut agreed, nodding his head in confirmation.

Dylan smirked, “I can’t really argue with you there.” Not only was she intrigued, but having a source within the royal family itself? That was any reporter’s dream!

“What kind of story are we talking about here?” she asked at length.

Jax looked between the two of them, “Whoa, Dylan,” he began, sounding oddly cautious for a person who once got shot with an arrow in order to get a good story, “Are you sure about this?”

She nodded, “I am.” And before he could even ask about his uncle, Dylan added, “We can always send in false propaganda pieces to cover up our tracks.”

It was what was essentially expected of them to begin with. But, as she saw Donut beaming appreciatively over at her, she just knew there was a bigger story looming on the horizon. Dylan Andrews was going to tell people about it.

Besides, thanks to her and Jax’s own unique magic abilities, they could easily do so without leaving much of a trail. She could hardly wait to get started.

*****

The vision that accompanied healing the Remnant this time was much more vivid, much more intense than any he had while _“practicing”_ his ability within the confines of the Magic Division’s secret lab.

Perhaps it was because the misshapen blue object was still located where it had been created, the memories it held of its birth more _“pure”_ as a result. Whatever the reason, he was met once again with the appalling images of Elves turning into Plague Beasts, of them dismembering those who hadn’t.

Only this time, _this time_ he saw Orcs standing guard on their fortresses, watching the carnage taking place impassively.

As the glowing light that was housed within the object became bright and vibrantly pulsated once more, Richard “Dick” Simmons dropped to the floor of the ruins on knees that were too weak to hold up his pitiful weight once more. He gasped for breath, sweat trickling down his face as he did so.

Felix stepped over him as if he wasn’t even there to retrieve the now restored item in the center of the space, smirking expectantly towards the Orcish general who had been tasked to oversee the event, “Well, what did you think?”

The man appeared to be in awe as he stared at the Remnant in the mercenary’s hand, “Incredible.” He finally breathed out, “And to think we had written off so much of this cache as worthless!”

“Isn’t it though?” Felix hummed happily as he put the object into his satchel, “And here’s another one to add to the collection.”

Simmons was glad that the hulking Locus nearby wasn’t also a gloater. Felix was often more than he could take.

The sounds of distant fighting and commotion entered the hall as the doors flew open, a cobalt blue-armored Orc entering hurriedly as Simmons tried not to think of his cousin Church. There was one last monstrous roar from outside before the familiar stillness of victory took hold.

“Sir,” the Orc who had just entered lowered his sword to salute the Orc general as more figures covered in shadow filed behind him into the room, “The last of the Plague Beasts in this area have been dealt with. With only minimal injuries.”

The general smirked rather cruelly as he cast a dismissive glance the reporting Orc’s way, “As if it would matter if there were any serious injuries amongst you Throw Aways, Temple.”

The man stiffened, his free hand clenching into a fist at his side, but neither her nor the rest of his group spoke a word in protest.

The general then turned back to Felix, “We should move on.”

Felix nodded and turned to join Locus and the general in leaving, though he paused briefly to cast a cold glance down at Simmons’ still hunched over, exhausted form, “I’d move your scrawny ass if you know what’s good for you.” He advised him mirthlessly before heading to the exit.

Simmons struggled to get back onto his feet, his head still reeling and his body far too weak due to exertion. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when he stumbled and pitched forward again.

The face-first fall to the stone below never happened like he expected it too, however, and he was startled to find a hand gripping his arm and helping to keep him somewhat steady.

An arm covered in orange armor, to be exact.

Simmons’ green eyes widened when he caught sight of far too familiar brown eyes within the confines of a masking helm, his heart nearly wanting to scream for joy and break all at once as a far too familiar tingle raced up his arm—magic giving him just a bit more strength.

He’d recognize this presence anywhere, and he wanted to shout at the top of his lungs questions about what the fuck Dexter Grif thought he was doing.

Simmons’ stupid throat closed up though, and all he could manage to squeak out was a truly pathetic, “Th—thanks.” as his mind screamed at him and he tried not to fucking cry.

Grif said nothing, and Simmons couldn’t stand it. The massive hall was suddenly suffocating and small. He tried opening his mouth again, and the Orc’s grip tightened around his arm marginally.

“Making me wait is not a smart move, you know.” Felix called out testily from the exit.

And Simmons knew that he couldn’t, _shouldn’t_ say anything or let on that he knew one of the Orcish soldiers in their midst if he wanted Grif to stay alive, even as his entire body ached at the solidifying realization of Grif being _there_. Close by.

Instead, he reluctantly pulled his arm out of Grif’s suddenly limp grip, nodding his head sheepishly in thanks again before he made his way past the other Throw Aways and over to where his current captor waited.

All the while, he felt Grif’s eyes never once leave his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long this chapter has been in coming. To make up for the wait, I shall be posting a few more chapters for this story before jumping to another WIP! :D
> 
> Reunion time, though Grif and Simmons might have to wait just a bit more to have a _“proper”_ chat with one another. But oh, it’s coming soon! :D
> 
> And I introduced a few more important characters for Volume II as well in regards to Dylan, Jax, Loco, and Temple. Here’s to hoping I can do them all justice in this story too!
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope the next few updates will not be disappointing! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Richard “Dick” Simmons carefully picked his way through the dirt and cobble-lined streets of the fort town known as Iris. He kept his green eyes downcast, mostly to avoid the hostile, curious, or outright indifferent stares of the Orc soldiers and residents he met. The iciness in some of their regards reminded him far too much of the horrific vision he had seen earlier, and he tried his hardest to quell the waves of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him at the memory.

Every few seconds, his hands went to the glowing red Relic embedded on the collar that Felix had chokingly put on him upon their return to Iris, stating with a laugh how every _“proper pet”_ needed one.

Simmons was still feeling pretty exhausted and drained from that last Remnant healing, but he had no desire to sleep in the room that he had been assigned to since he was unsure of if he’d be trapped in there. He supposed with the addition of the ancient Relic device to his person and being tucked in the middle of utterly unfamiliar territory had one surprising advantage as it gave him the illusion of temporary freedom, if nothing else.

The redheaded human was allowed to explore Iris because there were always soldiers monitoring his every move, and the citizenry itself seemed to be doing much the same. Not to mention that the collared Relic device that Felix had put on him evidently kept him on a _“leash.”_ Simmons still wasn’t sure what it actually did, but he was told to never try to remove it or go outside the town’s walls without Felix or Locus. Knowing Felix’s penchant for sadism, he was terrified to find out just _what_ this new safeguard was capable of.

Besides, horribly depressing and humiliating situation aside, this was his first opportunity in a long while to explore a town, even if the setting wasn’t the friendliest. Simmons didn’t want that to go to waste should his captors suddenly change their minds.

Not to mention, doing so was especially better than focusing on the fact that _Grif_ was here too and how apparently both of them were at a complete loss as to how to act around one another. Simmons sighed, his heart still feeling both immensely empty and like it was constantly being shredded to bits when he thought of the heavyset Orc.

As he walked, Simmons found himself drawn to the various marketplaces and other densely populated areas of Iris despite his still-present social anxiety and the less-than-warm greetings he received. Most likely it was largely due to the measure of normalcy he witnessed, the scenery allowing him to forget his status as a prisoner as he watched Orcs going about their business. It was eerily similar to his time as a ward of the Magic Division back in Valhalla. Simmons found himself somewhat reminded of his friends and family probably currently in Armonia, and he constantly had to squash down his feelings of missing them. Had Grif even seen them, or…?

After who knew how much time had passed, Simmons reluctantly figured that he should head back to the fort in the center of town before Felix changed his mind and forced his return. He had just slipped through the gates and was looking up with growing trepidation at the massive facility’s main entrance looming above him when he heard muffled voices discussing something from a side-building located just a few meters away.

Soft light shone through a tiny slit in the entryway indicating the door was open, as if someone had hastily shut it behind them and didn’t realize that it had sprung open slightly. Curiosity and hesitation still at entering the main building caused his feet to move before he even fully registered it.

_“And I don’t care how often you repeat it, that idea is_ still _bad no matter how you view it.”_

That ranting voice the maroon-wearing Magic User recognized as belonging to Temple, the cyan-armored Orc from the _“Throw Away”_ unit he had encountered before.

_Grif’s unit_ , Simmons thought with a sudden nervous lurch of his stomach, though the orange-armored Orc didn’t appear to currently be among the various shades of colored armor in the room. Whether or not he was glad or disappointed, he couldn’t say. It was probably a mix of both.

The man in aqua armor, not unlike his friend Tucker’s teal shade of clothing, simply shrugged in response, “That’s, like, just _your_ opinion, dude.” He stated indifferently.

“No, it’s fact. Anyone with half a brain would tell you that.” Temple’s reply was terse, and he crossed his arms over his chest, tone indicating that his say was final.

“All I’m saying…”

There was a collective groan from the others huddled in the tight, less-than-stellar-hygienic room conditions. Judging by the dirtied bandages covering the ground, the Blues and Reds as he had also heard them called mockingly on occasion by others were trying to heal their various cuts and bruises without relying on potions. Maybe their status made it hard to acquire them? Either way, they weren’t doing the best job of it.

“Hello!” A blue-helmed face suddenly appeared in Simmons’ own as the door was pulled open from the other side before he could react, a cheerful Orc greeting him.

“Er, hi?” Simmons responded sheepishly, as all conversation in the room came to a grinding halt at his presence being known.

“You should not just stand there being silly!” The younger Orc declared in a friendly tone, grabbing Simmons’ hand and pulling him inside before he could protest, “Come in! My name is Loco, and these are my special friends.”

“Dude, I told you not to say weird shit like that.” The aqua-wearing male sighed in exasperation.

“Don’t mind Buckey, Loco!” The pink-armored Orc hobbled over to pat Loco on the shoulder, “I think it’s sweet!”

“Of course you would, Cronut.” Buckey huffed, “You say even weirder shit all the time.”

“How rude! I know perfectly well when to stuff my hole closed!” Cronut let out an indignant huff, and Simmons wondered briefly if Donut was okay back in the Unsc.

“He _does_ have a surprising amount of discretion.” A gruff voice came from an older Orc in red that totally had Simmons thinking of Sarge.

“Thanks, Surge! Your secret love of musicals will always be safe with me!” Cronut assured the older man in a very loud stage whisper.

“Dang-nab-it, Cronut!”

“Tutti dicono cose strane tutto il tempo.” _{“All of you say weird stuff all the time.”}_

“See? Even Lorenzo thinks so!” Cronut stated proudly, and Simmons saw the familiar red eyes of an artificial humanoid just like Lopez from the figure in question, who now merely sighed and hung his head in exasperation.

As he was distracted by the antics going on around him, Simmons hadn’t realized that Temple had stalked over to where he and Loco were standing until the dark-haired Orc glowered down at him, causing Simmons to gulp.

“What,” the cyan-wearing soldier got out with barely restrained hostility, “Is the Unsc’s _pet_ doing here?”

His eyes zeroed in on the Relic collar as he spoke, and Simmons instinctively gripped the rather warm crystalline-like object at the center of his throat to block it from sight, “I…I’m sorry!” He managed to hurriedly squeak out, “I—I didn’t mean to spy.”

“Huh.” Surge snorted disbelievingly, “That’s exactly what a spy would say!”

“Excellent point, sir!” The glasses-wearing Orc in maroon spoke up as he stepped next to the older Orc and Temple, and Simmons wondered what it was about the guy’s voice that grated on his nerves.

“Surge, Gene. Both of you. Shut. Up.” Temple ground out, still glaring distrustfully at Simmons.

Simmons squirmed uncomfortably as Loco came to his defense, “Oh, I bet he just wants to be friends but is too shy.” He informed them, lowering his voice to a whisper as he added, “It happens.”

“Loco, did we _ask_ for a stupid opinion?” Temple questioned.

“Luckily, no one gave one!”

Loco’s cheerfulness even in the wake of Temple’s ire and the building unease in the space finally had Simmons’ courage raised up enough to speak, “I—I’m really sorry.” He stated again, glancing at their obvious wounds, “But I can help!”

“How?” Temple asked, looking beyond skeptical.

Without another word, Simmons reluctantly stepped away from the friendly and surprisingly supportive presence of Loco. He walked over to Buckey, having noticed among his wounds in particular a rather nasty forehead gash. The redhead took a deep breath and extended his Healing Aura, the injuries on the other man mending themselves in just a few minutes.

“Whoa.” Buckey breathed out as he looked down at his clear, healed arms again and tried feeling for the nonexistent forehead cut.

“Oh, oh!” Cronut was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet rather excitedly then, “Do me! Do me!”

“That’s what she said last night.” Buckey sneered, _“Boom-chicka-wah-wah!”_

Gene watched the human with newfound curiosity, “So, you’re a healer?” He asked.

Simmons nodded as everyone seemed to relax in his presence marginally at this new bit of information, gathering around him to benefit from his aura while Temple shot him an assessing look. It would no doubt tire him out even more to heal even the superficial wounds of everyone here, but at least it was something he chose to do.

*****

“Our unit is called _“Throw Away”_ because all of us are considered defective in proper Orcish circles.” Temple explained to him several minutes later as Simmons finished up healing Surge who had stubbornly insisted on being last, “As such, we were all put in a squad that no one will give a fuck about once we’re gone.”

Though Temple had warmed up to Simmons in light of the human draining himself to help them out, there was an understandable note of bitterness to his tone when he talked about their position in Orc society. Simmons really couldn’t blame Temple, thinking back to how little people like his father and uncle had even viewed him.

“That’s…” Simmons frowned, unsure of how to respond so that the sentence went unfinished.

Buckey scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s beyond fucked up, is what it is.”

…Again, he couldn’t really argue.

Surge flexed his arms experimentally, “I do believe that was the last one.” He stated satisfactorily as he inclined his head a fraction in Simmons’ direction in way of thanks.

“Um,” Simmons looked around the room again as if hoping a certain someone decked out in orange might suddenly appear, “Isn’t…wasn’t there another of you be—before?”

If Grif had been hurt and he just hadn’t realized it because the dumbass had been blocking their bond, then…!

“Oh. You mean _him_.” Gene sniffed the air dismissively, and Simmons fought the sudden urge to kick him.

“Grif’s not here at the moment.” Temple told him, then quickly stated, “Not to worry, he’s healthy enough that they put him on guard duty.”

Simmons tried not to appear too disappointed or worried by the news. He wasn’t really sure if letting these guys find out that he and Grif knew each other yet was a smart idea, so he decided not to press the matter anymore even though he desperately wanted to know what Grif had been doing here in Iris.

Temple was once again regarding the redhead with a rather assessing look, “Though it doesn’t seem like your situation is any less shitty than ours.” He observed, his eyes darkening, “It appears the Unsc is governed by a bunch of uncaring assholes too.”

Simmons found it hard to really argue with Temple’s point there, and the odd looks of genuine sympathy he appeared to be receiving from this colorful bunch of Orcs was touching enough that he had to hastily wipe his eyes to stop any telltale tears from appearing.

“At any rate, thanks for helping us out.” Temple stood up and offered his hand to Simmons with a self-deprecating smile, “Us screw-ups should stick together, huh?”

Simmons rose from his crouched position, feeling very light-headed as he did so on account of overexerting his Healing Aura after having healed the Remnant.

Temple’s grip on Simmons’ arm tightened as the human stumbled, though he somehow managed to remain upright, “You okay?”

_“He will be fine.”_ A gruff, stoic voice spoke up from the now open doorway before the human could respond, _“He simply requires rest.”_

Simmons turned, the blood turning to ice in his veins as he saw Locus standing there. His intimidating presence made the entire room fall silent once more. Shakily, Simmons nodded his head in agreement to what the mercenary had deduced. Without another word and with only two strides into the space, Locus had gripped Simmons’ other arm and was pulling him away from the now tersely silent _“Throw Aways.”_

They were walking through the winding corridors of the main building before Simmons’ exhausted brain could really process what was happening. Locus didn’t even slow his gait any as he turned his head slightly to regard the trembling human, “You should not be overextending yourself.” He observed without preamble.

Simmons merely nodded mutely, rather weak still and altogether terrified to be in the behemoth’s presence.

Thankfully, Locus remained resolutely silent for the rest of the way to Simmons’ assigned room, and if he noticed Simmons’ surprised sharp intake of breath at _Grif_ of all people apparently being on guard duty there, he deemed it an inconsequential reaction.

Grif’s eyes fell squarely on Simmons then as the redhead stood transfixed before the dark-haired Orc shrugged at both of them as if this whole routine was no big deal. Simmons swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, knowing it was best for the moment to also do the same. He reluctantly tore his gaze away from Grif as Locus opened his door and pushed him inside the sparsely decorated space.

“Get some rest. Now.” Locus told him as he heavily shut the door and effectively blocked the Orc from Simmons’ longing sight.

Simmons frowned at the door that now kept Grif from him, his nerves already working themselves up into a frenzy at what else was going to happen on this excursion.

*****

Dexter Grif, meanwhile, watched the exchange between Locus and Simmons take place out of the corner of his eye, continuing the constant strain of ongoing panic he felt ever since the incident at the ruins.

Not only was Simmons fucking _here_ , but he had gone and stupidly touched the poor nerd without having thought of the consequences because Simmons was fucking _there_ and right in front of him, and there were so many things he wanted to say and do…

Now the Linking Magic was positively _thrumming_ through his veins. It was proving a losing battle to try to ignore and somehow block their connection, but letting it slip that they knew one another in any way, shape, or form was a definite no-no right now.

A very large part of Grif simply wanted to storm through the rather pitiful wooden door that separated them now, to just get Simmons and fucking _run_. But he knew thanks to annoying, pain-in-the-ass logic that there was probably no way to easily escape a heavily fortified Orcish town like Iris. No doubt Charon had supplied their own safety measures too if they felt confident enough to allow Simmons temporary movement within Iris itself. He hadn’t seen that weird, blood-red Relic collar on Simmons before now that he thought about it.

Not to mention there was always the very real possibility that Simmons might understandably not even _want_ to talk to Grif again due to how he had been absolute garbage when he had up and left before.

He frowned, not for the first time and probably not the last, wondering just when it was that things had gotten so horribly complicated and fucked, though deep down inside he was well-aware of the answer. It had been from the very moment that he had admitted to himself that he had inexplicably fallen for the scrawny human with red hair and scarred-up ears.

Grif gripped his hands tighter around his weapon, trying to center and ground his swirling thoughts.

“You.”

The orange-armored Orc was startled out of his mulling contemplations by the intimidating-as-all-fuck Locus towering over him. Shit, man, for a human he was _tall_. Grif nearly jumped back in shock. If it weren’t for the embedded runes in his staff, no doubt his magic ability would have caused it to explode into tiny splinters due to his surprise just then.

Locus didn’t seem to care that he had just scared the shit out of him, motioning instead to the shut door to Simmons’ room with a slight tilt of his scarred head, “Keep an eye on things here.”

Grif nodded shakily, his throat suddenly dry.

Locus paused before turning fully to leave, regarding Grif peculiarly for a second as the Orc felt his nerves getting the better of him under the intense glare, “Do I know you?” He asked suddenly, his tone almost accusatory.

Grif was very glad that he had been dressed differently back at Rat’s Nest, and that Locus had been more or less preoccupied with fighting Tucker back then. He quickly shook his head, hoping that the mercenary would buy it.

He was beyond terrified that Locus might say something else as he continued scrutinizing him with narrowed, dark eyes. But, to his great relief, the man in steel and green promptly walked off without saying another word.

Grif let out a relieved sigh when he was positive that Locus was out of earshot and leaned his back against the wall right near Simmons’ room, both excited and anxious at getting to be so close to the redhead.

*****

For the first time in a rather long while there was a certain lightness to David Washington’s step as he traversed the streets of Armonia. He was making his way to Guild Headquarters, mouth curved upwards ever so slightly. Caboose’s earlier joyful demeanor as he had relayed his news to Washington was apparently quite infectious.

“Wash!” A familiar voice called out from a nearby side-street, “Hey, Wash!”

Tucker was hurrying over to join him in his trek, his own grin as blindingly bright as the sun. Seeing it made Wash’s mood feel even _lighter_ somehow, “Tucker.” He nodded his head in the teal-wearing Beast Folk’s direction, “Where’s Junior?”

“Apparently learning how to kick asses and take names with his Aunt Tex.” Tucker puffed out his chest proudly, “Not that he needs much help in that department with me as his dad and all!”

“Uh-huh.” Washington wasn’t so convinced of that just yet ( _with time most definitely, but for the moment…_ ), but he was once again amazed by how much time so many of the other Guild members devoted to helping Tucker watch out for his son.

“What’s up with you?” Tucker was leaning into Washington’s personal space about a second later, causing Washington to start slightly at having not noticed before but with great effort he avoided reaching for one of his knives on reflex, “I haven’t seen you look this happy in…” Tucker scrunched his face up in thought, “Maybe forever.”

Washington decided to resist the urge to protest since, okay, it probably _had_ been awhile. Instead, he recalled his earlier bit of good news, “Caboose was telling me that he just got another message from his sister.” He told the younger man.

Understanding dawned on Tucker’s face as he knew that Washington was rather good friends with Four Seven Niner from way back before his Guild days, “I take it she’s doing all right?” He asked.

“Better than that, by all accounts.” Washington told him, “Evidently having Filss as her new co-pilot has done wonders for her, and vice-versa.” He smiled faintly, “Even if it makes Unsc airship runs more difficult.”

It was a bit of good news in a turbulent time. Washington wished there could be more of it. He was happy for the Dwarven pilot: like he and the others affected by Project Freelancer, she had been through a hell of a lot even before the Charon kidnapping incident. It made him oddly hopeful in a way that he wasn’t quite sure how to put into words to know that she was doing better.

“I bet that news made both Caboose and Sheila really happy too.” Tucker noted with a far too knowing twinkle in his brown eyes.

All of the siblings had been trying to remain in near daily communication with one another when they could, following the forced separations they had endured earlier.

Washington confirmed this with a nod of his head, “Their good moods have even started rubbing off on Carolina and Church too, especially Caboose’s.”

The two Church siblings had always had a close bond with Caboose ever since they had all apparently joined the Guild at roughly the same time. Caboose had been trying to do his utmost to cheer them up ever since they had lost contact with Donut and their cousin.

A sad, pained sort-of silence settled over the pair as they continued to walk. Washington glanced worriedly over at Tucker, knowing he was pretty upset by recent events too.

At length, Tucker sighed, ‘Yeah, those two have had it rough since Simmons left.” He said regretfully, a contemplative frown settling over his features, “Kai too.”

“Tucker…” Washington began, but then he hesitated, unsure of what he could say even as he desperately wanted to somehow make things better.

“I’m just glad they’ve got Tex, York, and Volleyball looking out for them.” Tucker forced a smile onto his face, “Caboose and everyone else too.”

Washington nodded his head in agreement, “Things might definitely be much worse if that wasn’t the case.” He noted, before regarding Tucker fully and carefully before he lost his nerve, “What about you?”

“Me?” Tucker blinked his eyes in surprise, his furry tail swishing back and forth behind him, “I’m not the one missing any loved ones, dude.”

Washington saw well past his fake bravado, “All three are rather close friends of yours, and you _are_ friends with their loved ones too.”

The blond’s pointed out remark had Tucker’s feline ears drooping and his shoulders slumping, “It fucking sucks.” He admitted finally, his hands clenching tightly into fists at his sides, “But I’ve got Junior and even _you_ to worry about now though, so—”

Washington stopped abruptly to stare at Tucker incredulously, not sure why his chest clenched at the surprise comment, “Me?”

Tucker scoffed at his shock, “Obviously. What with you sucking at figuring out what’s good for you and all.” He was pointedly _not_ looking at Washington’s face.

The Seas sputtered indignantly, “Th—that isn’t even remotely true, Tucker!”

Tucker fixed him with a direct stare at that so quickly that Washington found himself nearly flinching under its intensity, “Oh yeah?” His tone was that of a challenge, “How long has it been since you even fucking ate without me or someone else reminding you to do it?”

“Th—that…” Washington deflated in his protests as his mind drew a blank. Rather than note the look of triumph on Tucker’s face, he glanced down the street, “There’s just a lot of things that still need to be done here in order to prepare for whatever might be about to hit.” He muttered weakly, though he knew it was no excuse to not be taking care of himself. He honestly hadn’t even noticed until just now, but knowing that Tucker had…

His gray and yellow-tinged skin suddenly felt rather warm.

“True, but it’s not like it’s going to fucking help anything if you collapse from hunger or exhaustion before then.” Tucker reasoned soundly.

Washington couldn’t really argue with that, even if he _was_ rather caught off-guard by the source of said logic. Tucker always managed to catch him by surprise.

“Besides,” the Beast Folk continued matter-of-factly, “Who knows exactly what’s going to happen anyways?” He leveled another stare at Washington that had him gulping nervously as he said, “I’m almost fucking tempted to pry Doctor Grey away from making out with Sarge just so she can lecture you, and you _know_ how much she scares the shit out of me!”

Washington couldn’t help but smile slightly then, feeling oddly touched by the other’s concern. Just as he was about to concede Tucker’s point, however, a familiar purple blur ran over to them.

Doc’s face beneath his flower-crowned hair was red from exertion, and he had to take a few moments to catch his breath. As he did so, he continued waving his arms frantically. It would have almost been funny if he didn’t look so desperate.

“Whoa, Doc!” Tucker had also caught on to that fact, his facial features lighting up in alarm, “What the fuck is going on?”

A few more wheezing breaths later, and the healer seemed to have composed himself well-enough to talk once more. He fixed them both with a rather eager stare, his body language appearing both happy _and_ anxious all at once, “A message!” he finally blurted out, “A message just came in from Donut!”

Tucker and Washington both looked at the other for only a split-second before they hurried to Guild Headquarters with Doc hot on their heels.

*****

_Someone was leaning down over the hard-as-stone mattress he had been given to sleep on. Simmons woke with a start when he felt his shoulders being gripped tightly in the dark of his cell. He nearly screamed out, but then he felt a soft pressure on the collar around his neck and suddenly there was the warmth of lips pressing fervently against his throat._

_“I’ve missed you so much, Simmons.” A heart-achingly familiar voice whispered softly against his ear when the mouth reluctantly pulled away._

_Simmons leaned into the touch then, wanting to_ feel _Grif’s warm breath against the shell of his scarred-up ear. “I—I’ve missed you too.” He murmured shakily, knowing it for the truth even as a very large part of him wanted to tell the Orc off for having distanced himself before._

_All coherent thought flew from his brain when, at the admission he had just been given, Grif suddenly_ straddled _him on the bed. He was kissing the redhead passionately. Desperately. A hand ran over and under the fabric covering Simmons’ chest._

_“Things are going to be okay.” Grif murmured again, reassuringly close to Simmons’ ear once more._

_Simmons desperately wanted to believe that, but he couldn’t stop the quiet sob that broke free from his mouth all the same. Grif hesitated, and it almost seemed as if he might pull away._

_Wanting nothing more than for this contact to continue, Simmons quickly leaned up and wrapped his arms tightly around Grif’s larger frame. He tried pulling the man in for another kiss, bringing his lips crashing sloppily against Grif’s own._

_Grif seemed completely shocked by the redhead’s sudden ferociousness, but it was only a moment before he was returning the gesture just as greedily, just as hungrily._

_His hands slid down to Simmons’ waist. “Simmons…!” Grif moaned out his name as his heated fingers continued moving farther and farther down, Simmons responding by moving his hips and…_

…And then Simmons suddenly woke up from what was apparently a very deep sleep by his heart pounding so violently that it seemed like it was threatening to burst straight out of his chest. He sat upright in the suffocating darkness all around him, flushed and sweat-soaked, still feeling the feverish touch of Grif’s fingers and lips on his skin.

He hadn’t had a dream that vivid since…well, that _one time_ and…

Simmons realized even as the heat became tenfold over his entire body that this no doubt had also been caused by the Linking Magic, that it had gotten strong enough to at least slide temporarily past whatever barriers Grif had been using.

Which meant that Grif was probably still somewhere close by. On guard duty still? What time was it anyways? The Orc might not even be consciously aware of what had happened. He was shocked to find tears falling down his cheeks at the thought, though he couldn’t say why.

Hastily wiping at his eyes, Simmons jumped to his feet and swung the door open before he could think of the consequences, just desperate to _see_ Grif again. To fucking _feel_ him.

…Only Locus was standing in the hallway instead, Simmons’ impulsive action causing him to raise an eyebrow slightly, “What is it?” He asked impassively and Simmons stepped back instinctively out of fear.

But knowing he should say something, the redhead sheepishly asked, “Um...wh—what happened to the guard that was here?”

“I relieved him.” Locus tilted his head slightly as he regarded Simmons with what appeared to be mild curiosity, “Why?”

The maroon-wearing human let out a nervous peal of laughter, “N—no reason! None whatsoever.” He quickly got out, “Night!”

He shut the door again to block out the dubious look the imposing human had shot his way. Simmons let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, his weak legs giving out as he sank slowly to the floor. All he wanted to do right then was maybe punch Grif and call him a dumbass, but also kiss him until they were both out of breath. Those conflicting feelings were confusing the shit out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simmons is making some new friends, but that might not be a good thing given who they happen to be. XD Simmons and Grif really need to get their acts together though. That kind of unresolved tension is not good for anyone! XD
> 
> …Lol, I think Locus knows something is up with the two of them though. Just a hunch. XD Whether or not that will bite them in the butt remains to be seen yet.
> 
> In honor of it being _RvB_ Smut Week, I included yet another of my near-smut dream sequences in this chapter because that is all I’m capable of writing, evidently. XD Even though I feel I do not write near-smut all that well, I hope it wasn’t too out of place!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and hopefully you liked this chapter and will enjoy the next chapter too! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Dylan Andrews’ magic ability had always been difficult to describe in words. _“Information Transference”_ was certainly useful, yes, but it needed to be experienced by someone in order to be comprehended. If Dylan had a clear mental image of someone in her mind, she could transfer any type of information or data directly to them. It was as if sharing information with others had always been in her blood, and she would be lying if she denied how journalism just seemed like a natural extension of her gift.

The female Orc had never used a state-of-the-art Unsc Relic Communicator to transfer data and intelligence beyond borders, let alone to people she had only seen a few seconds ago. Projection technology sure was fascinating! She supposed there was always a time for firsts.

Dylan sat in a chair in her room at the inn they were staying at while in Valhalla, looking directly into a blue-tinted holographic projection of Vanessa Kimball’s office at the Guild Headquarters in Armonia. She had sent Jax out to get coffee earlier, knowing she needed a modicum of silence to concentrate for the endeavor of transferring information.

Sitting in the office on the projection screen was not only Kimball but also a sizable amount of Guild members, ones she had been introduced to briefly to make the transfer easier. Church and Carolina were cousins of the currently missing Simmons, as well as the nephew and niece of Malcolm Hargrove, leader of both the Unsc’s Magic Division as well as its subversive shadow group Charon. North and South Dakota, C.T., and Washington had all been special agents of the Unsc’s ill-fated Freelancer program along with the two siblings. It had surprised her only slightly to see that they had all migrated to an organization like the Guild. Lavernius Tucker, Sheila, Michael J. Caboose, and Frank “Doc” DuFresne were various Guild members who apparently all had reasons of their own to be invested in this information she’d be sending.

…And these were only the Guild members they could gather on short notice.

Truthfully, Dylan had been most surprised by the presence of Donald Doyle, the man running the Unsc’s embassy in Armonia. However, before she could even voice her concern in words, Kimball had assured her that Doyle could be trusted, much to the human’s own shock and incredibly pleased expression over the Seas’ shoulder.

“…That is everything I know.” Dylan concluded at length once the transfer process was all said and done.

Silence had enveloped the office on the projection screen as the news sank in, a tinny-like voice thanks to the double projection of a regular audio-only Relic Communicator breaking it: _“So…I take it something happened then on your guys’ end?”_ York, another former Freelancer turned Guild member out on a mission but keyed into the meeting, asked.

Dylan regretted that she hadn’t been able to patch him in as well due to her lack of a first-time visual for him and his partner out in the field, Delta.

_“Yeah, York, something the fuck happened.”_ South told him tersely, _“We’re just trying to figure stuff out, which would go better if you weren’t interrupting.”_

_“I’ve missed you too, South.”_ York’s response was just as snarky, _“Always a pleasure.”_

_“Next time we meet up, my fist will be sure to show your face a grand old time.”_

Their rather hostile remarks evidently weren’t anything the others cared to comment on as Doc relaxed visibly in his seat despite them, _“I’m just glad that Donut’s okay then.”_ He stated, a sort-of smile crossing over his features.

_“Well, as far as anyone living under virtual house arrest can be.”_ C.T. responded with a rather thoughtful frown on her face.

Doyle was quick to respond, _“Oh, I assure you, given his status, he is most likely being treated quite well.”_ He coughed and fidgeted awkwardly when Kimball shot him a disbelieving look all the same.

Carolina, meanwhile, frowned and shot Dylan a questioning look that had her instinctively flinching due to the intimidating body language of the other woman, _“That is all the information you have on Simmons then?”_ She asked, sounding rather hopeful and dejected all at once, _“That’s he’s been shipped around and used to as a guinea pig by his father and the Magic Division?”_

Dylan nodded her head in response, “That is unfortunately true.” She reluctantly informed her, “Donut was able to keep some tabs on him, but he was limited in how much contact he had been allowed to have with Simmons since arriving here.”

The two siblings briefly gripped one another’s hands in a reassuring gesture that everyone else pretended not to see. Church frowned a moment later himself, _“Then taking Simmons to different regions now for whatever the fuck they’re up to makes it sound like they’re definitely getting ready for something.”_ He noted.

Carolina’s green eyes had hardened while her brother was talking, _“I would very much like to have some words with my uncle.”_ She stated in a rather clipped tone.

_“Carolina…”_ York’s voice over the communicator was soft and worried, though he trailed off as if unsure of what else to say.

Doyle coughed once more to bring everyone’s attention back over to him, _“Yes, well, as important and vital as getting news on our allies is,”_ he began with a serious look crossing over his eyes, _“I’m also concerned about the fact that it seems as if the Unsc and Orcs have formed some kind of an alliance.”_

For a moment, it almost looked as if Tucker was about to try debating the comment, but he merely frowned instead and asked, _“Why? Of all the things we’re talking about here, isn’t that the one fucking good thing?”_

After all, the tension and hostility between the two powerful nations that sandwiched the rest of the Outer Regions (in hindsight, a rather poor name for an area that was literally between two other countries) had always meant that the threat of all-out war had fallen heavily on everyone’s heads.

Doyle nodded, _“Normally I would be quick to agree with you. But the fact of the matter is that an informal alliance such as what we have here can be quite troubling indeed.”_ He fixed Kimball in particular with a pointed stare, _“Especially since the embassy here in the Outer Regions hasn’t caught wind of it yet until now.”_

His concern as the person in charge of said embassy was quite understandable.

_“That’s troubling because it indicates that the ongoing talks are something neither side wish to include the rest of the world on, or it means that only a select few in the Unsc or Orcish ranks are even aware that they’re taking place at all.”_ Kimball elaborated for him, leaning over her desk, _“Which would indicate both governments might be less stable than they want to admit.”_

Washington seemed to catch onto her meaning readily enough, _“Charon could be working to set up some sort of coup using the alliance.”_ He got out through gritted teeth.

_“Which could also tie into whatever their plans were involving Magic Users and collecting Remnants.”_ Carolina surmised.

_“Fuck, all of this conspiracy shit is hurting my head.”_ Tucker groaned.

Church let out a derisive snort, _“You and me both, Tucker.”_

_“It is too bad Red Sargent isn’t here.”_ Caboose sighed mournfully, _“He loves conspiracies.”_

_“Please, Caboose, that is one brain-break I’m glad to not be having right now.”_ Tucker informed his friend.

Doc deflated at this newest bit of discussion, _“B—but that means that Donut could be in even more danger than we know of!”_

Kimball sighed tiredly and pressed her webbed hands to her forehead in thought as Doyle stroked his chin, _“Yes, but what can we do in this situation?”_ the leader of the Unsc embassy queried.

Church grunted, _“Isn’t it fucking obvious?”_ He asked, continuing only when everyone’s attention was fixed on him, _“We find a way to expose whatever the fuck Charon’s up to and we save our friends.”_ He rolled his eyes, _“Come on, guys, you know how much I fucking_ hate _being the one to always come up with these awesome and heroic plans.”_

South snorted derisively, _“My ass! You practically fucking live and breathe for it.”_

Doyle sighed wistfully, _“You make it sound so very simple to do.”_ He lamented.

_“No one is saying that it will be, sir,”_ North spoke up gently to the man that he was often assigned to guard, _“But we can’t very well sit here and do nothing.”_

_“Yeah!”_ Tucker nodded his head fervently in agreement, _“What North said.”_

South pinned the two of them with an annoyed glare, _“Since when did the two of you become besties?”_

Kimball slammed her hands down on the surface of her desk and straightened in her seat, causing a few of the people assembled to start slightly before Tucker could come up with an ill-advised retort to South’s taunting, _“Our best bet will most likely be to approach this from two sides currently.”_ The Guild leader stated rather decidedly.

_“It will be?”_ Doyle asked rather doubtfully.

Kimball nodded, her eyebrow only twitching slightly in annoyance at his question as the brown-skinned and ice-tinged Seas explained what she had in mind, _“One of our next courses of action should be to smuggle Donut out of Unsc territory again since he might be able to help us properly negotiate with the Unsc if given more freedom.”_ She continued after a few seconds of silent pondering to her remark from the group, _“The second course of action will be trickier as it means we will have to somehow get into Orcish territory safely.”_

Doyle frowned, _“How do you propose we even attempt doing so?”_ He asked.

“He has a point.” Dylan spoke up before an argument could break out between the two leaders, “Neither region is very open to outsiders traveling there.”

Even an Orc such as herself wouldn’t be welcome in the Orcish region given her lack of permits and citizenship status.

_“I believe we could provide some assistance.”_ A cool, unknown voice to Dylan spoke up from York’s communicator just then.

Several figures in the office stiffened at their inclusion, South positively seething, _“Florida!”_

_“What’s going on, York?”_ Carolina asked, concern suddenly making her form all the more rigid.

York let out a loud sigh, _“Yeah, for the record? They kind of set up me and D, and threatened us to join in the conversation now.”_ He informed them, _“Not my idea.”_

_“That’s painting a mighty poor picture of us, York.”_ Florida admonished gently.

_“Us?”_ Church narrowed his eyes, _“Then that means…”_

_“Hit the nail on the head, didn’t you?”_ Another new, heavily accented voice cut in, _“Hello, old chaps.”_

_“Yeah, it’s Florida, Wyoming, and Gamma here.”_ York helpfully tried elaborating.

_“They stipulate that they only wish to talk.”_ Delta stated quietly.

_“Fucking hang up.”_ Church told Kimball curtly.

_“Hey!”_

York’s indignant response was cut off by Florida, _“Hear us out first, Church, before doing anything too hasty.”_ He stated calmly as if very much expecting that type of a heated reaction, _“Reggie, Gary, and I did some work for the Orcs awhile back by tracking down some rogue elements for them. I’m sure our paperwork is still in order and could help get you inside their territory, no questions asked.”_ He paused briefly to let his offer sink in, _“All you have to do is just ask and we’ll be pleased as punch to help.”_

_“Really?”_ Washington looked extremely doubtful, _“What’s the catch?”_

_“Well, of course we just want to provide what help we can to the cause.”_ Florida stated pleasantly, _“Though I do admit to feeling just a tad guilty about letting one of Connie’s old friends listen in to the discussion too.”_

_“What?”_ York demanded, _“You never said a damn thing about that!”_

_“Water under the bridge now, I’m afraid.”_ Wyoming told him as the sounds of heavy, muttered cursing occurred, _“Do calm down, York.”_

_“Charon has been spying on our lovable prince using our friend Sharkface, and since it is obvious to everyone by now how the Insurrection has been used by both Charon and the Unsc, I thought letting them be privy to more intel to help them make up their minds quicker might be beneficial to all.”_ Florida sounded rather pleased with himself as he evidently added to someone else, _“Ball’s in your court now, Terrence.”_

_“Terrence!”_ C.T. shot up from her seat, a pained look on her face.

_“Damn it.”_ A gruff, heavily filtered voice spoke up before the sound of another communicator clicked off.

Dylan felt a cold sweat form on her skin. What would this spy do now that his cover was so thoroughly blown?

_“Should be interesting to see what he decides.”_ Florida said rather jovially all the same.

_“Hmm.”_ Wyoming hummed in agreement, _“Though the others might think differently, Butch.”_

_“You really think so, Reggie?”_

York groaned loudly from wherever all of them were.

_“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Agent Florida.”_ Kimball told him succinctly, _“But you’ve forced our hand at this point.”_

_“Did I now?”_ There was an almost knowing quality to his voice just then.

Kimball sighed, _“We would be extremely grateful for your assistance in getting into the Orcish territories, Agent Florida.”_

_“I had a feeling you might.”_ He was definitely pleased.

_“Which brings us to who is going where.”_ Sheila noted from her spot by the door.

C.T.’s fists were clenched at her sides, _“I’ll go with whoever is going to the Unsc.”_ She said quietly, _“I can’t let Sharkface possibly do something damaging.”_

South regarded her with an unreadable look for a second before she smirked over at Kimball, _“You know what? That sounds like the more interesting choice too. Sign me the fuck up.”_

C.T. shot her a grateful look as Kimball nodded, _“The trainees, Caboose, Tucker, Doc, and Washington will also go.”_ She paused and considered for a moment, _“North and Theta will also come along, continuing in their capacity as Doyle’s bodyguards.”_

_“M—me?”_ Doyle swallowed and nodded his head when Kimball fixed him with a stare, _“Yes, I suppose my time to visit Valhalla again is coming up.”_

_“Perfect.”_ Kimball smiled at him, and the human ducked his head to the side.

_“I can remain here to support the Guild and watch out for Junior.”_ Sheila offered.

Tucker grinned at her, _“Thanks, Sheila, you’re the best!”_

_“It is no trouble at all, Tucker.”_ The crystalline woman smiled at her friend in turn.

_“I wish I could go with you, but…”_ Kimball frowned and trailed off.

Doyle, staring at her with a knowing look, put a hand briefly on the woman’s shoulder, _“The time for you to travel will be upon us soon enough. We’d rather have someone in charge here that we know we can trust for the time being.”_

Kimball nodded, her expression as she stared back at Doyle both surprised and oddly touched.

_“That means that everyone else will be heading to the Orcish territories, right?”_ York asked a second later, _“Should D and I meet up with them just to make sure these three keep their word?”_

_“Where did the trust go, York, old chap?”_ Wyoming joked.

_“Of course, York.”_ Kimball informed him, _“We’ll let you know when they are setting out.”_

_“Oh, oh!”_ Caboose waved his hand in the air excitedly, _“We can use my sister’s ship!”_

_“I just fucking love to travel.”_ Church muttered sarcastically, _“Simmons had better be okay after all of this.”_

But Dylan was already shutting down her Relic Communicator since the conversation was wrapping up, her heart thudding loudly in her chest as she raced to the door. “Whoa, Dylan!” Jax exclaimed as she ripped it open, two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands, “I don’t want to get scalded by doors slamming on me a fifth time!”

Dylan almost wanted to ask just _why_ that had been such a common occurrence for him, but there was no time for her usual pause that so many of the young man’s comments often caused her to have. Instead, she said, “We need to move, Jax. The prince is in danger.”

“Aw, can’t we drink these first though?”

She rolled her eyes, “Chug them on the way if you want.”

As Dylan walked past him, she reached out and sent a warning message to Donut, hoping they weren’t already too late. She didn’t know what they could do to stop a Charon agent exactly, but she was going to try regardless.

*****

The ruins that the generals were bringing their human guests to this time were located on the western area past Iris. They were generally considered sacred by the local populace, something about how an elven village had once existed in the now crumbling structures, complete with Dwarven storage tunnels. The ruins were kept clear of Plague Beasts as a result, which wasn’t too much of a problem anyway considering how the area had been pretty much stripped clean of any and all Relics and Remnants that might have attracted the monsters there in the first place.

All in all, beyond maybe being something of a sightseeing spot for history nerds, Dexter Grif could just imagine Simmons’ eyes lighting up if they were traveling there under normal circumstances and that thought made him smile slightly despite everything, there wasn’t anything that he knew of there to warrant the military sending out a patrol currently.

…Which was an opinion apparently shared by the Blues and Reds too.

“ _Why_ are we doing this again?” Buckey complained loudly from his spot to Grif’s left as Temple was on his right, having insisted Grif walk up front with the two of them on their journey from Iris following Grif being assigned separate guard duty rotations from the rest of them back at the fort, “There’s nothing fucking _here_!”

“Maybe there is, but it is hiding.” Loco spoke up from behind the three at the front, “This will be a treasure hunt!”

“I’ll look into any holes we find!” Cronut was quick to exclaim, “The deeper, the better! You’d be surprised just how far I can get my whole fist into a tiny hole.”

Grif suppressed a shudder and tried really hard not to think too much of Caboose and Donut then.

“Oh, I’m sure the higher-ups have their reasons.” Temple stated pleasantly enough with just a little sharp edge to his tone, dark eyes scanning the area around them intently, “We just have to observe until we see it for ourselves.”

“Sounds pretty boring if you ask me.” Buckey declared.

Surge harrumphed, “Which is why no one did.”

The same asshat general who had been stuck to Felix’s side on their last outing came striding over to the trudging along group and Grif found himself glancing over at Simmons once more thanks to his now currently unobstructed view.

Like before, Simmons was understandably stressed and all out of sorts at being around Felix and Locus, which was no surprise given his current situation in general. But even so, his green eyes were wide with curiosity as he glanced around the area, and Grif couldn’t help but feel the edges of his lips curving upwards slightly once more at the sight which was almost exactly like he had pictured.

_The fucking nerd_ , he thought fondly. He tried to do them both a favor at the moment and not think back to that _very_ good yet emotionally exhausting dream he’d had before. It was weird how vividly he remembered it, and how it simply reminded him that he wanted to just get Simmons the fuck away from the very shitty situation they were stuck in.

“We’re heading to the center now.” The general informed them as Grif tuned back into what was being said, “Your pathetic lot will be tagging along this time so that I don’t have to hear any whining about injuries later, Temple.”

“Thank you so much. Sir.” Temple managed to grind out through clenched teeth before motioning for the others to quicken their pace.

From where they had been standing farther away, Felix suddenly reached out and grabbed Simmons roughly by the elbow. He ignored the grimace on the redhead’s freckled face at his action, forcefully pulling the redhead along towards what could be equated to the ruined village’s square with Locus following just a step behind.

Grif grit his teeth at the sight, gripping his staff tightly in his hands until his tan-skinned knuckles started turning white with the pressure.

“Don’t worry, Grif!” Loco’s voice startled him temporarily out of his swirling emotions, and he realized that the two of them were now a few steps out of formation. “I’m sure that Simmons will be fine.” The younger Orc in blue stated reassuringly before hurrying to rejoin the group.

Grif gazed at Simmons struggling to keep up with Felix’s quick stride a second longer before reluctantly doing the same, wondering how Loco had even known what he had been worried about in the first place.

…Maybe he was way more obvious with his feelings than he thought. He hoped it wouldn’t cause him or Simmons any trouble. They were in enough of it as it was, much as he was loath to admit it. At least this time, he got to stay close by Simmons. He wasn’t going to let the kiss-ass out of his sight for anything.

*****

The Relic, if it could even be called that, was a small sliver of pale blue glowing faintly as it struggled to stay floating at roughly eye level in the center of the ruins. Richard “Dick” Simmons stared at it in awe, nearly forgetting his predicament in light of what had just been revealed to him.

“And you’re saying it just _appeared_ here one day?” He breathed out rather incredulously.

From where he was standing off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest, Felix rolled his eyes. He was clearly as bored as Simmons was fascinated, “That’s what these guys said.” He swept an arm out grandiosely to seemingly indicate the Orcs at large, “Supposedly this sacred area, or whatever it is to them, birthed a new Shard because they had cleared out all of the Plague Beasts.”

“Penserei che i dettagli reali potrebbero essere importanti.” _{“I would think the actual details might be important.”}_

Where the Throw Aways known as the Blues and Reds were standing not too far away, Cronut tapped his chin following whatever it was that Lorenzo had said and mused allowed, “I would have thought a birth would be messier.”

“Shut up, Cronut.” Temple warned him as Felix and Locus both turned their heads in their direction.

Grif was standing by Temple and Surge now. Their eyes met briefly before the Orc quickly averted his gaze. An all-too familiar ache settled in his chest as Simmons was quick to do the same in order to keep anyone else from noticing.

“But this is hardly a new phenomenon if you think about it.” Gene couldn’t help but speak up in a supremely know-it-all voice, “Shards have appeared at locations wherever Relics and Remnants have been farmed clean at random points in history. It’s just been at far too few instances to count as a true replication process.”

“Nerd!” Buckey coughed behind him.

Gene fixed him with a glare as he continued, “Not to mention that Shards are useless compared to the magical energies stored in their full-grown counterparts.” He finished rather smugly.

“No one was asking for any of your lackluster thoughts.” Felix told him abruptly and Gene shook slightly at the dangerous mercenary’s attention being fixed on him.

Simmons almost felt bad for the Orc. Almost.

Felix ignored the gathered Orcs then, reaching out and grasping the Shard as he might the hilt of one of his beloved knives. Simmons watched him warily, thinking over what Gene had just said. If it was true, then…

“Wh—what are we doing here then?” The redhead spoke up nervously. It didn’t seem as if his power could heal something like the Shard.

Felix smirked and Simmons felt a chill run down his spine as he turned to face him, “We’re here to do a little experiment.”

“Wha…” Simmons fearfully took a step back as Felix inched closer until he practically collided with his back against the iron wall that was Locus.

Felix was now outright sadistically _grinning_ as he tossed the Shard into the air and caught it with his other hand, “Didn’t you know there were multiple ways to use your power?”

Before Simmons could even react, Felix was thrusting the Shard at his gut as if he was going to stab him. But as Simmons instinctively recoiled from the intended blow, a sharp piercing sensation never came.

Instead, the Shard seemed to disintegrate the second before its sharp point even touched his clothing. He felt an odd burning sensation at the very core of his being, his entire body glowing briefly for a moment as he gasped in pain.

_“Simmons!”_

He felt rather than heard Grif’s mental cry of his name, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Temple and Surge both holding the Orc back from running over to avoid getting the rest of them in trouble, his expression absolutely _tortured_.

Simmons tried smiling weakly to assure him that he was okay, really. The pain was fading even as an odd, gentler warmth overcame him. His legs were still weak though, and he collapsed to the ground at the mercenaries’ feet gasping for breath once more.

“What did you just do?” He heard a surprisingly tense-sounding Locus demand towards his partner overhead.

“Just testing out a theory our buddy Price had. Relax, Locus.” Felix smugly responded, “All’s well that ends well, right?”

Simmons’ whole body felt warm and rather tingly, and he wrapped his hands tightly around his stomach where the strange sensation appeared to be the strongest.

“You never told me about any of this.” Locus was still berating Felix.

“Must have just missed the memo. Partner.”

As Locus fell silent following Felix’s mocking tone, Felix knelt down beside the still shocked senseless Simmons. He smirked and put a patronizing hand on the redhead’s shoulder, “Think of yourself as a walking Remnant factory now.” He informed him, “That Shard is going to stay inside you and grow until it is useful to us, thanks to the intensity of your fancy little aura _within_ your own body.” Felix’s teeth were nearly as pointy as his ears when he grinned, “You’re going to produce even more power for your daddy than you ever thought possible.” He patted Simmons’ shoulder, positively gloating, “So get up already. We’re going to be visiting a shit-ton more places, after all.”

*****

_Simmons was sitting on his bed in his tiny guest room in Grif and Kai’s house back in Blood Gulch. It was the one place where he had truly felt carefree, if only briefly, though not at this particular moment. He was crying, and he supposed it was only fitting that his mind should bring him back to the only place he could never return to thanks to that fire and everything else that had happened since._

_It reminded him of how this wasn’t real, that his current nightmare was his actual reality. He sniffled, burying his head in his hands and hating how truly and utterly pathetic he was. There were footsteps hesitantly walking over, and then a noticeable dip in the soft, cushiony mattress as considerable weight was added to it._

_“Simmons?”_

_Grif’s voice. Fuck, he didn’t want him seeing him like this! He curled around himself tighter, trying to stifle the sobs. Nothing was working though, and he hated himself._

_Strong arms were suddenly enclosed around him, pulling his back flush against Grif’s chest as the Orc wrapped him into a soft, comforting hug. The warmth of it was nearly enough to break him, even though Grif was acting so uncharacteristically gentle, as if Simmons was some incredibly fragile thing._

_“What happened back there?” He asked at length when Simmons had quieted some._

_Simmons shook his head, “I—I don’t want to talk about it.” He finally managed to get out in a strangled whisper, “I just…I just want to go home, Grif.”_

_He didn’t even know if he really had ever had one though, and that thought made him want to cry even more._

_Grif’s embrace tightened, and Simmons let himself sink into it momentarily, “It…it’s going to be all right, Simmons.” He told him earnestly._

_“How…” Simmons frowned, “How can you even say that when we can’t talk directly right now?” He tightened his fingers around the tan and orange-swirled skin of Grif’s biceps, desperate for the warmth emanating from them, “Grif, I fucking_ miss _you!”_

_He felt Grif’s frown against the back of his neck, “Simmons…” The Orc began, his hold around Simmons tightening. He appeared to be debating something, and just as he opened his mouth to speak…_

Something bumped into Simmons’ shoulder, jostling him awake. He started upright, surprised to see Gene standing there over his bed with a tray full of some kind of meager-looking breakfast he couldn’t identify the contents of.

“Um, you were crying and…” Gene trailed off apologetically, weakly holding out the tray again, “It’s time to eat. That, um, thing takes a lot of out of you it seems, so you probably need to replenish your strength. Or something.”

Simmons sat up, resisting the urge to snap that he didn’t need Gene to tell him that. It probably wasn’t fair of him, but he couldn’t help but resent the brown-haired Orc for his waking up. There was just something about the guy he didn’t like.

Simmons’ mind drifted to his dream as he failed to work his appetite up, and he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “Where’s the orange-armored guard from before?”

“Grif?” Gene knitted his eyebrows in thought, “Probably off sleeping somewhere.”

…Which would explain why the Linking Magic had connected their dreams again.

Gene frowned at the contemplative look in Simmons’ green eyes, “Though I can’t figure out why you’d want to ask about _him_.” He sniffed dismissively.

Yeah, Simmons really didn’t like Gene all that much.

He felt a slight wave of heat on his face, both out of indignation on Grif’s behalf and flustered embarrassment, “Oh! Um,” he tried wracking his brain for a plausible excuse, “He just…reminds me of someone, is all.”

“There’s a lot of that going around with that guy.” Gene muttered darkly under his breath.

Simmons raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” He asked curiously.

But before Gene could respond to his question, _Locus_ was standing in the doorway to Simmons’ room. He stared at the mousy-looking Orc in maroon rather impassively, “Leave.” was all he said to him.

Gene didn’t need to be told twice, and Simmons gulped nervously since that left him and the rather murderous mercenary alone. Locus regarded Simmons for a few tense moments of suffocating silence before…

“Are you all right?”

_That_ caught Simmons off-guard and he blinked, his fear momentarily forgotten at the absurdity of the question coming from someone like Locus, “Why would you even care?”

The mercenary in steel and green frowned, the X-shaped scar on his forehead becoming more pronounced as he did so.

“Something isn’t right here.” Locus finally stated, “Felix should have told me what he’d planned.”

So he was having _trust_ issues with his sadistic partner then? Simmons simply gaped at him, not sure how to even respond to this bit of news. It was surprisingly Locus who fidgeted then, a slight grimace on his features, “Perhaps even coming here was a mistake.”

He turned to leave, and Simmons stood up abruptly. “W—wait!” He was shocked that he had managed to work up the courage to speak, even more-so that Locus actually paused.

Simmons took in a deep breath and decided _fuck it_. “I—if you aren’t sure you like how things are…things are going anyways,” he got out in a shaky tumble of words, “Could you maybe…do me a favor?”

Locus frowned and Simmons hoped his gamble wouldn’t turn out to be really bad.

“A—a simple one!” Simmons tried reassuring the mercenary since it was really such a simple thing, but it would mean the whole damn world to him, “N—nothing that would probably ruin things for you or my dad in any way.”

Locus fixed him with a considering regard, and finally nodded, “I’ll hear you out, at least.” He informed him succinctly.

Simmons let out a sigh of relief, determination clouding over his features a second later. No point in backing out now that he had gotten this far, and he _really_ didn’t want to: “There’s a guard here that I’d like to meet face-to-face.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four chapters in and I’m FINALLY arranging for our two heroes to have a proper reunion with one another! What is this “slow burn” everyone keeps mentioning? XD
> 
> Lol, and I’m far too amused that I’m not the biggest fan of coding and therefore wrote in an extreme amount of italics coding into this chapter in particular. XD I NEEDS HELP. :)
> 
> Why yes, this IS the start of me writing a Locus redemption plot because I love that aspect of his character in the show. :) And yep, the Blues and Reds are definitely going to be up to something too. XD But what about Sharkface? 0_0; …I might just leave the reveals about him until the next chapter to give you something to look forward to! :D
> 
> I feel like I should be apologizing in advance because while I have been trying to get at least an update a week posted, there is going to be quite a bit of hectic-ness next week in RL that might make that impossible. So if there is a longer wait for an update to any of my stories I apologize in advance!
> 
> …Maybe I will write something even longer when I am able to post just to make up for it! :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, as always! :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

“You know,” Jax stated casually as he and Dylan Andrews navigated their way through a crowded street in Valhalla, ignoring the questioning regard being thrown their way from curious passersby, “An urgent warning of potential danger would be a lot more believable if we hadn’t had to schedule a meeting first.”

“It couldn’t be helped.” Dylan said with a sigh as the female Orc spotted the inn and café called _The Painted Pony_ that Donut had arranged to meet them in, “Donut didn’t want my magic ability to be widely known,” which was a sound strategy as she kept that information rather close to her chest, “And he apparently already knew there were eavesdroppers to get rid of, even if he isn’t fully aware of how dangerous they are.”

Dylan quickened her pace as she continued, “The only way to avoid forcing our opponent’s hand is to act as if everything is going smoothly.” Inwardly, she hoped that was reality and not a bluff, even if the news that Donut was being monitored by a dangerous Insurrection member would have even the most seasoned of reporters throwing caution to the wind.

“Besides,” Jax mused next to her, “It isn’t like we can just walk up to Donut and tell him everything. Guards would totally be on us in no time flat, and his cover would definitely be blown.”

“Thus the need for secrecy and arranged meetings.” Dylan concluded before staring at her half-human, half-Dwarven companion almost proudly, “You’re learning.”

Jax’s grin lit up the already bright décor of the café they entered, “I _am_ trailing the best. It was bound to rub off on me eventually.”

Dylan genuinely returned the smile, “Don’t say that in front of Donut.”

“Oh, did I just hear my name?” A familiar voice spoke up, “And something about rubbing off? Because I could really use a good one of those!”

“Um…” Dylan began, unsure of how to respond.

Donut stood up from a table in the establishment’s far corner, “Hey, guys,” he greeted with a friendly wave, “We’ve been waiting for you!”

Dylan blinked in surprise, “We?”

The sight of a severely burnt and scarred man sipping tea from a floral teacup casually across from Donut caused her to freeze. He smirked at her open shock, “This is what happens when someone _doesn’t_ have the opportunity to be fashionably late.”

Donut huffed in clear exasperation, “I still think coming with a flourish would have been the best!” He pouted.

The Insurrectionist known as either Terrence or Sharkface depending on who was talking about him looked at Dylan’s still frozen in surprise expression in obvious bemusement, “Yeah? Because it looks like it still worked.”

Her body once again decided to follow her commands, and Dylan moved past a thoroughly confused Jax in order to put herself between Sharkface and Donut, “What are you doing here?” She demanded, “If you try anything…”

Sharkface still seemed more agitatedly amused than anything else as he leaned back in his chair, “You’ll do what, exactly?” He questioned her with a glimmer in his good eye, “Tattle on me if I burn this place to the ground?”

“That’s…!” Dylan was cut off by Donut putting a hand gently on her arm in a reassuring manner.

“Quit it with the bad jokes already.” The pink-wearing man said instead to Sharkface, who simply smirked in response from behind his ridiculously out-of-character teacup, “Dylan,” the prince of the Unsc turned his attention back to the still unsure journalist, “It’s okay.”

She merely responded with a dubious look on her blue-swirled face.

“Believe it or not, Terrence here actually approached _me_ when I just so happened to let it slip that I knew I was being followed. From the front, even!”

“And he didn’t kill you?” Jax whistled before turning in Sharkface’s direction, “Maybe we misjudged you. Sorry!”

Sharkface sighed, “I get that a lot.” He admitted, looking oddly thoughtful as he added, “Probably with good reason.”

“But this time?” Donut smiled at the two surprised journalists reassuringly, “This time Terrence says he wants to help!”

*****

There was a bustle of activity as everyone put what they were bringing onto the airship. Jensen, Andersmith, and Caboose talked excitedly to Four Seven Niner while Sheila and Filss said a few quiet words together off to the side before they separated once more. South Dakota remained standing by her single bag, glaring and strumming her fingers along her arms. Of special attention to her was her brother and Theta, currently chumming it up with Tucker and Washington.

“You don’t seem too pleased to be on this mission.” C.T. casually remarked as she strode over to South’s side, her conversation with the other Guild trainees evidently over for the time being since they were now talking to Doyle and getting some last minute advice from Kimball.

South rolled her pale blue eyes, “Getting stuck babysitting a bunch of noobs who still don’t know what the pointy edge of a fucking sword does while _still_ having to play nice with North and Theta in hostile territory?” She asked, “Whatever makes you think this wouldn’t be a mission that I’d totally love?”

C.T. ignored her sarcasm, “Yet you’re still going.” The brunette noted.

South sighed, “Yeah. Guess I am.” She decided not to mention how that largely had to do with C.T. volunteering to go on the mission. Instead, she gruffly asked, “Are _you_ okay with this?” The human turned her head slightly to gauge the other woman’s reaction, “Heading back to your hometown after all this shit’s gone down, maybe even having to fight one of the assholes you used to work with before?”

C.T. frowned slightly as she pondered the question, “I’m not thrilled about it, no.” The brunette told her before a determined look crossed over her brown eyes, “But I feel like I owe it to the Insurrection to try to set its remaining members down the right path.” There was a hint of steel to her voice as she added, “And to make sure the end is swift if I can’t.”

South grinned, “Maybe that last part in particular is why I want to tag along.”

C.T. gave her a knowing smile as she unclenched her hands, “It is _still_ going to be a lot of rescues and bonding that you’ll probably hate though.”

South groaned and looked away dramatically, “Ugh, don’t remind me.” She patted the sword hilt at her side, “Hopefully all the ass-kicking we should be getting into will make it worthwhile.”

C.T. hummed in agreement before a soft “Thanks.” suddenly left her lips for only South to hear.

South raised an eyebrow, about to ask her what the hell that had been for when…

“South! C.T.!” Tucker was calling out across the way to them, “Theta found a kickass map. Check it out!”

The black-haired boy in question blushed at the shout-out as South sighed, “And so it begins.” She muttered darkly under her breath.

C.T. patted her shoulder in mock sympathy as she begrudgingly made her way over to humor the poor bastards.

*****

York was waiting by a small town near a checkpoint in the Orcish territories, grinning at the group from where he and Delta were sitting around a smoldering campfire with Wyoming, Gamma, and Florida.

Carolina shot him a small smile that he was eager to return as the white-armored Wyoming drawled, “Ah, there you are! Always a pleasure to see you chaps.”

“Very much so.” Florida was quick to chime in too, “I’m pleased as punch that you’re all doing well from the look of things.”

Carolina knew the pleasantries rang both true _and_ hollow all at once coming from them, though she didn’t have the desire to comment on it. They were here for a reason, after all.

“Fucking give it a rest.” Tex told the pair succinctly as Church nodded his head in agreement by his current, at least by Carolina’s estimate, girlfriend’s side.

“We don’t trust you for a second.” He added in a quick jab of his own for good measure.

“Well, that hurts a tad, but I’d say it is perfectly understandable.” Wyoming didn’t seem at all plussed by the admission.

“Oh dear.” Florida, however, looked vaguely troubled at the prospect, “Perhaps we should all do some trust exercises then?”

The suggestion was readily ignored save for Sarge who harrumphed, “We have no time for trust falls and other hippie claptrap!” He declared, “Just tell us if you have the intel we need to get into the Orcish territories.”

For once, Carolina appreciated how to-the-point Sarge could get when he wasn’t going off on absurd, mind-breaking tangents.

“We do indeed.” Florida patted a small satchel at his side, “Although there is a small caveat.”

Of course there was. There had always been strings attached to any favors during their Freelancer days too. Carolina didn’t like the memories this exchange was dredging up. She caught York watching her out of the corner of her eye and didn’t want to give him or her far too observant brother any reasons for concern. The redhead sighed instead, “Which would be?”

“Only a small handful can go, and they will need both of us to accompany them directly.” Florida explained at her prompting, tilting his head slightly, “As escorts, so to speak.”

So much for directly getting what they needed and leaving. She _should_ have guessed as much, though she had no idea what ulterior motive Florida and Wyoming might have in play currently.

“Both of you?” Church questioned the two humans as he turned to his fellow Fragment Gamma questioningly.

“Oh, Gary gets the fun job.” Wyoming was quick to speak up for his friend, “He gets to help sneak the rest of you in.”

At least it seemed that no one was going to be left behind in their plans.

“I’ll go along on the stealth mission.” Carolina was quick to speak before there could be any arguments. The sooner they got started here, the quicker they would find Simmons.

“We’ll go too.” York spoke up just as quickly for both himself and Delta, Carolina giving him a grateful look.

“Yo también podría irme. Será como unas vacaciones.” _{“I might as well go too. It will be like a vacation.”}_ Lopez stated, and while she didn’t know exactly what he had said, the golem’s stepping closer to her spoke volumes for his intent.

“Stealth isn’t my forte, so I guess I’ll be using the front door this time around.” Sarge decided.

Doctor Grey nodded her head in agreement, “I’m curious as to what going through the checkpoint is like myself.”

…Which just left Church and Tex.

“We’re in agreement. For once.” Tex told Sarge rather amicably before thrusting her head in Florida and Wyoming’s direction, “Plus, I want to keep my eyes on these two.”

“Understandable, I suppose.” Wyoming muttered again.

“Maybe we can try those trust exercises while we’re on the road, hmm?” Florida suggested as all eyes fell onto a rather reluctant Church.

Church sighed, “Goddamn it.”

*****

Dexter Grif was wary but not altogether surprised when Locus pulled him aside, ordering the heavyset Orc to come to one of the supply rooms so that he could help move things around in there. After all, that was just the kind of grunt work that he and the rest of Temple’s group of _“Throw-Aways”_ had been doing ever since their arrival at base.

He _was_ , however, surprised to find that the space was already in perfect order when he got there, almost exactly in the same kind of arranged setup that reminded him of when Simmons would organize and straighten things to help calm his nerves.

Grif tried pushing that particular thought down before he felt the jolt of the all-too familiar Linking Magic coursing through his veins, turning around instead to face the terrifying Locus questioningly from where he stood in the doorway, “So what was it exactly you needed me to do in here again?” He asked.

He really hoped he hadn’t been brought here for a random murder session or something because that would royally suck.

“I don’t need you to do anything.” Locus’ reply was prompt, “But _he_ does.”

As soon as the words left the tall mercenary’s mouth, he stepped back to reveal that a rather anxious-looking Simmons had been hiding behind him.

“S—Simmons…” Grif began before his brain decided to unhelpfully stop working altogether.

“Grif…” Simmons was smiling slightly and Grif was entranced by the sight, neither of them seeming to notice that Locus had left and closed the door to give them privacy as they cautiously, hesitantly approached the other.

Grif found his words and nearly choked on his rush to get them out, “I’m sor—!”

But his apology was promptly cut off by the redhead reaching out with his fist and _punching_ him in the face, which had Grif more in shock than anything else as Simmons winced in pain and held his now smarting hand gingerly with his other, “Wh—what the fuck were you thinking, leaving like that _and_ trying to seal the Linking Magic?” The Magic User demanded through gritted teeth all the same, “I’d been worried sick and…!”

“I’m sorry.” Grif was quick to say again, absolutely sincere.

Simmons’ green eyes watered up, “Idiot.”

“I am.” Grif sighed shakily, rubbing the back of his dark-haired head, “I just majorly suck at dealing with feelings, and I didn’t want to upset you even more so I…” He paused, trying to find the right words to explain things, “So I tried cutting myself out so that you wouldn’t know how fucking worried I really was.”

“Only that just made things worse.” Simmons muttered under his breath and, yeah, the nerd had the right of it this time.

Grif looked over at him cautiously, a new wave of concern washing over him at the sight he saw, “Holy fuck, Simmons. Are you crying?”

“Sh—shut up!” Simmons sniffled and tried futilely wiping at his eyes, “I’m just doing this because my hand fucking hurts now, all right?”

Grif snorted and decided to play along even though they both knew Simmons was totally lying, “Yeah, Orcs are strong and it’s like hitting an iron wall.” He told him, raising a black eyebrow, “What did you expect, kiss-ass?”

He reached out and offered the other man his own hand, Simmons only considering the action for a moment before placing his hand on top of Grif’s. Grif started rubbing the still no doubt hurting appendage soothingly with his fingertips.

The magic was singing in them and Grif _never_ wanted to let go again, resisting the urge to grip too tightly as he softly asked, “Any better now?”

“Y—yeah.” Simmons glanced at him rather imploringly, “But _please_ don’t do something like this again, fat-ass.” He stated shakily, “I… _we_ need you, Grif.” His voice became a terrified whisper as he placed his free hand tentatively over his stomach before dropping it to his side, “Especially with…”

He trailed off as if he couldn’t say it out loud. Grif squeezed his hand even more.

Right, there was just so much to talk about now given the situation they were in, even if Grif wanted nothing more than to stay right there with Simmons forever. He paused, not wanting to break the silence just then but wanting to say _something_ reassuring all the same…

“Grif?” Temple’s voice did it for him, the door to the supply room opening as the cyan leader poked his head in curiously. He looked even more pleasantly surprised at who he happened to find Grif with. “There you are!” he stated cheerily to Grif before glancing over in Simmons’ direction, not commenting on how their hands had so quickly dropped to their sides, “And you’re with the other person I was hoping to run into. Will wonders ever cease?”

Both Grif and Simmons glanced at one another as Temple cast a speculative look their way, “Huh. I didn’t know you two knew each other though.” He said as they were left wondering just what it was the Orc wanted right then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, they finally had a proper face-to-face reunion! :D Everyone is moving on with their plans now, so now we’ll get to see the plot take shape. :)
> 
> …I might also be starting a new WIP soon because I have no self-control. I apologize for that already. XD
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you so much for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Check out these lovely _Remnants_ artworks by the incredibly talented [blankslate101](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/):
> 
> [Tuckington 1](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Remnant-Tuckington-700938303)
> 
> [Simmons](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Remnant-AU-Simmons-700911845)
> 
>  [Tucker](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Remnants-AU-Tucker-700912646)
> 
>  [Grimmons 1](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Remnants-grimmons-700935335)
> 
>  [Ships](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/art/Remnants-Ships-700918212)
> 
>  [Tuckington 2](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/art/Renment-tuckington-700917854)
> 
>  [Grimmons 2](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/art/Remnants-Grimmons-700913778)
> 
>  [Washington](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/art/Remnants-AU-Wash-700913202)
> 
>  [Grif](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/art/RVB-Remnants-AU-Grif-700908753)
> 
> ...Words cannot express how truly astounded and grateful I am for these. They are absolutely gorgeous. Thank you so much for sharing them! :D


End file.
